


my only sunshine

by vonseal



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mild Sexual Content, Past Violence, Physical Disability, Romance, gang is back and so am i
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2020-10-28 10:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 53,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20776874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vonseal/pseuds/vonseal
Summary: jinwoo ran from the sunshine, but the sunshine caught up. will he accept its warmth, or will he remain within winter's grasp?





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooo many people wanted this so here yall go :)
> 
> it would be useful to read the first in the series, which is [you are my sunshine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15837123/chapters/36879675), fondly referred to from here on out as yams
> 
> (yams and mos)

Jinwoo liked working on the docks.

It smelled of fish. It was gross, the ground covered in guts of sea creatures. Men with big boots stepped all over the place, spreading the filth, calling out prices and catches and anything else that would get them money. Some people would come to buy pounds of fish for their shops; others would come to pick up a few fish for their family dinner.

It was crowded and chaotic and busy. Jinwoo liked busy.

_ Busy _ meant he didn’t have to think too much about Myungjun.

After the night they sat together on the bus, Jinwoo had kept his distance. He took a longer bus route as often as he could; if he had to take his usual one, he would hop off the moment he saw Myungjun climb on. He knew he was cowardly, but he couldn’t face Myungjun after all that had happened. He was stupid to ever think otherwise.

As he packaged and wrapped some fish, he briefly thought of Myungjun’s stump-hand. He felt guilt clutch his heart as he recognized how it had all been his fault. Had he not gotten involved with Myungjun in the first place, that never would have happened; or, even, if he hadn’t allowed Myungjun to stay at his apartment that day, then his boyfriend would have been safe and fine and well.

He had been selfish, and Myungjun paid dearly for it. Jinwoo refused to be selfish anymore. 

A seagull landed nearby and Jinwoo shooed it away, hopeful it wouldn’t try to steal any of his fish. It squaked at him, but Jinwoo waved a hand in its direction.

Once it flew off, Jinwoo sighed and stared after it. Seagulls were annoying, certainly, but it was nice to have them around. They bugged him. They pestered him. They were the demons sent to punish him for his crimes.

He deserved the stupid seagulls.

He turned back to his customer with an apology and set the fish in her basket. “Have a good day,” he told her, and she smiled, toothless and sweet, before wobbling away.

Behind her was another customer. 

Myungjun.

He wore a heavy rain jacket and boots and a hoodie to cover his hair. Jinwoo’s eyes widened, and he asked, “How did you find me?”

“Was I looking for you?” Myungjun retorted, a smile coming over his face. “I just came here for fish.”

Jinwoo didn’t believe that for a second. The way Myungjun was grinning and staring at him made it clear that he had only come for one reason. Myungjun wasn’t supposed to know Jinwoo worked on the docks often; it wasn’t information that was readily available. Jinwoo had gone through great lengths in order to hide his location, both from gang members _ and _ Myungjunn.

Yet, Myungjun had somehow found him.

He had to maintain his professionalism, though. He couldn’t run. He couldn’t hide. His colleagues were around him and would notice any sort of suspicious behavior.

He took a deep breath and asked, “What would you like today?”

Myungjun pursed his lips and looked over the selection. His eyes kept glancing back toward Jinwoo, who tried his best to ignore it all.

“I’ll go with ten pounds of the cod. Did you catch most of these, Jinnie?”

The familiar nickname made Jinwoo pause. He remembered how bright and cheerful Myungjun had once been saying his nickname. He wondered why Myungjun was saying it now to him.

“Can you carry ten pounds?” was his response to Myungjun’s question. He began to wrap the fish and weigh them.

Myungjun nodded his head with earnest. “I’m a lot stronger than you might think I am.”

“I know you’re strong. I’m not denying that.” 

His acknowledgement of Myungjun caused the older man to smile widely. “Wow,” he murmured, “so you remember my strength! I know it’s been six years, but—”

“It’ll be thirty-thousand won.” Jinwoo interrupted. He didn’t want to talk about the past. He didn’t want to remember the past. He wanted to move forward in his life and forget about what a horrible person he had been.

It was bad enough that he had permanent tattoos and scars on his body that he was forced to look at each day. Having Myungjun nearby would further drive him to guilt and regret.

Myungjun’s face fell. “Jinwoo, it’s been six years. Why are you avoiding me so much?”

Jinwoo didn’t have a reply. He didn’t _ want _ to reply. If he replied, he would be involving himself in Myungjun’s life again. He _ couldn’t _ involve himself in Myungjun’s life.

He looked down instead at Myungjun’s arm, at the stump by the wrist, and swallowed thickly. “Thirty...thirty thousand,” he murmured.

Myungjun moved his arm behind his back, out of sight from Jinwoo’s wide, prying eyes. “Jinwoo,” Myungjun whispered, “it happened six years ago. It’s healed. I’ve learned to live without it. It’s _ fine _. It wasn’t your fault.”

It was, though. As much as Myungjun tried to deny it, Jinwoo knew it was all his fault. He shook his head and responded, “If we hadn’t been involved, then it wouldn’t—”

“I _ wanted _ to be involved. Even after it happened, I wanted to be involved. Being involved means being a part of your life, and I want that more than anything.”

Those words hurt to hear. It was the very reason Jinwoo had run and hidden himself away. It was the reason he still longed to avoid Myungjun’s loving gaze. While his life was good now, while he was moral and ethical and _ good _, he couldn’t stand the thought of Myungjun ever allying himself with something he hated for the sole reason of love.

“You can’t do that,” Jinwoo snapped. “You can’t put yourself in a situation that’s potentially dangerous just because you love me. That’s stupid, Myungjun. It’s immature and dangerous and _ stupid _ . Why did you go along with everything? You didn’t even _ try _ to change me, so don’t give me that bullshit excuse. You were willing to change yourself in order to match my degenerate lifestyle; do you really think that’s what love is?”

Myungjun had been silent as Jinwoo complained, but he finally spoke up. “Are you really questioning how much I loved you?”

Jinwoo never had before, but now he couldn’t think of anything else to say except for, “I am!”

Myungjun bristled. His face was red, not from the cold, and his eyes were alight with anger. “I can’t believe you’re saying this to me right now. I can’t believe you think I don’t love you.”

Before Jinwoo could say anything else of the matter, one of his colleagues came up behind him. “Are you okay?” the other fisherman asked Jinwoo. “Is something going on? I heard yelling.”

“I wasn’t...I wasn’t yelling.” Shame washed over Jinwoo as he realized what he had said. Why was he taking anger out on Myungjun? It was misplaced. It was _ stupid _ to do that. He felt pathetic, and when he glanced over at his ex-boyfriend, he realized Myungjun’s lip was quivering.

“Hey,” Jinwoo muttered, but Myungjun dug around in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He counted the correct amount before tossing it on the table, amidst the dozens of dead sea life. 

“Thanks for the fish,” Myungjun snapped. He grabbed his wrapped fish with difficulty, body swaying slightly, but then he stormed off and Jinwoo realized Myungjun truly _ was _ strong.

Myungjun was strong in more ways than one. He could carry all those fish in one hand. He could also carry the weight of Jinwoo’s actions and his changed lifestyle and anguish in his heart. He remained steadfast, despite the situation.

And he loved, despite the situation.

It was stupid for Jinwoo to attack Myungjun for something that wasn’t even his fault. Myungjun was the victim in Jinwoo’s messed-up life. Yet here he was, trying to pin everything onto the man he loved more than anything else.

The other fisherman clapped a hand on Jinwoo’s back. “Are you alright?” he asked. “Did he make you angry?”

He shouldn’t have gotten angry. There was no reason to. He slowly shook his head and then sighed, staring down at the money. He didn’t want it. It was a lot of money, but he didn’t want to take anything else from Myungjun. 

“He’s always been a nice customer,” the man stated suddenly. “Very polite. He owns a ramen restaurant close to here. It’s seafood ramen. We’ve all been meaning to go one day.”

“Count me out,” Jinwoo muttered.

“Why?” the fisherman grabbed the money from the table, fingers brushing against dead fish. “Are you two familiar with each other?”

Confirming that would be a death sentence. The fishermen might learn more of his shady past than they had already gathered. So he shook his head. “No. Just...he doesn’t like me much, I don’t think. I don’t blame him. I’m rude.”

The fisherman snorted. “You’re not that rude. You’re a bit standoff-ish, but not rude.”

Jinwoo shrugged his shoulders but chose not to dwell on the subject any longer. He knew he had been rude to Myungjun, and it was only because _ he _ could not handle what had happened in the past.

Myungjun could. Myungjun was so strong and overcame it all and decided to move forward and look to the future. 

And Jinwoo could only wallow in the past.

He thought the years alone had helped him to understand that he wasn’t fully at fault. After all, he hadn’t been the one to hurt Myungjun’s hand. That was someone else. While it _ had _ been Jinwoo’s fault that Myungjun was caught up in that mess anyway, Myungjun had forgiven him. 

He had to move on.

On the bus ride home that evening, he took his normal route. He saw _ Sunshine _ from the windows of the bus. The open sign was up, and the windows showcased warmth that could only be found inside of the restaurant. People with steaming bowls of ramen seated with family or friends or loved ones, laughing and talking while a cheery waitress served them.

Jinwoo longed to go inside, but he sat back instead, averting his gaze to stare down at his lap.

He was a coward. He was scared to move on.

The bus rolled down the street. _ Sunshine _ was out of sight within seconds.

Jinwoo sighed and leaned back.

Maybe he should move.

**☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼**

Myungjun was at the fish market a few days later, back to buy more cod. He had another basket with him this time, and Jinwoo didn’t think before asking, “What’s that?”

Myungjun’s face lit up, and so Jinwoo quickly backtracked. “I’m not trying to make conversation. I just want a simple answer. What’s that?”

“It’s still conversation,” Myungjun teased. He lifted back some plastic covering the seafood to reveal squid. “Fresh squid. Looks good, doesn’t it?”

“I’m not making conversation,” Jinwoo repeated, wrapping up Myungjun’s cod.

Myungjun pouted but said nothing to convince Jinwoo otherwise. He placed his money down on the table and held out his arm, the sleeves hanging down uselessly.

Jinwoo hesitated. If he were to give Myungjun the fish, would he be able to carry it without anything dropping? He already had a basket of squid in his good hand. The cod would need to be carried in such a way that would make movement awkward for Myungjun.

Myungjun seemed to sense his hesitation, and he gestured with his arm. “I’ve gotten used to doing this,” he assured Jinwoo. “I can carry anything at this point.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Jinwoo snapped. 

“Sure. Just as you weren’t making conversation.” Myungjun snorted and raised his eyebrows. “Come on, Jinnie. I don’t have all day.”

Jinwoo knew better than to continue to hesitate. He leaned forward and placed the cod into Myungjun’s arm. Myungjun wrapped his arm securely around the bag, holding it against his chest, and smiled brightly. “See?” he said. “Nothing to worry about.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Jinwoo reiterated, ignoring the fact he definitely was. When Myungjun smirked, Jinwoo tried his best to explain the situation. “And even if I was, then I am showing you the same sort of concern I show for any of my customers.”

Myungjun nodded his head, though it was clear he didn’t believe a word Jinwoo was saying. “You should come visit my restaurant soon,” he suggested, the smile still shining on his face. He looked like sunshine. He looked like any of the gorgeous celestial elements floating out in space, surrounded by darkness and still somehow able to shine despite it all.

Jinwoo desired to become like Myungjun, but he knew such a feat was impossible. Only Myungjun was able to possess such a lovely and bright personality.

Jinwoo lowered his gaze. He cleared his throat and shrugged his shoulders; a non-answer, really, for he couldn’t make any sort of definite promise.

“I need someone to clean tables for me,” Myungjun stated. “You did the best work out of anyone. And the waitress I have now isn’t _ nearly _as fantastic as you.” He suddenly giggled and shook his head. “Don’t tell her I said that, though. She’s great. Her name is Jiwoo, which reminds me a lot of you. That’s part of the reason I hired her.”

“Why do you still like me?” Jinwoo asked, grabbing the money that Myungjun had left on the table for him. He knew it had nothing to do with the conversation Myungjun was trying to make, but he hadn’t lied originally; he didn’t _ want _ to make conversation.

He just wanted his question to be answered.

“Who said I still like you?” Myungjun asked with a scoff. He seemed fine with the change of topic. 

“You wouldn’t be pestering me so much if you didn’t like me,” Jinwoo pointed out. “And, I just...how did you get over what happened so fast? How did you forget how horrible I was?”

Myungjun pursed his lips. He seemed thoughtful. “I...I never thought you were horrible,” he stammered. “Not once. Not ever. You made mistakes, but I knew you were remorseful. And look at you now! You’re working an honest job and making money and I know you’re living well.”

Myungjun had so much faith in him. Myungjun had always had faith in him. In fact, he was the only person who _ did _. Myungjun was the reason Jinwoo was able to work an honest job and make a good living.

“And the cost was your hand,” he muttered.

“It’s not like humans _ need _ both hands, anyway,” Myungjun pointed out with a chuckle. “I mean, I’m able to do everything I could do before just fine. Video games are hard, but civilization has advanced to the point that we only need keyboards for games now. I just reconfigured my games for keyboard use instead. It’s actually easy.”

Jinwoo couldn’t help but smile. Truly, Myungjun was the sun. He shone in the face of disability and adversity.

Myungjun’s own smile turned into a grin. He leaned against Jinwoo’s booth and added, “And one day I might get one of those prosthetic hands. I’ll become part-cyborg. It’ll look really cool and slick, probably.”

Jinwoo sighed. He began to fix up his pile of fish, separating them by type, and said, “You’re amazing, Myungjun.”

“Yeah.” Myungjun pushed himself off the booth. “So are you.”

Jinwoo disagreed, and he shook his head. Myungjun clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Don’t do that. You _ are _ amazing.”

“I catch fish and I sell them and I live alone. Not really amazing.”

Myungjun shifted his arm a bit, holding the cod closer to him, and said, “I cook fish and sell that and live alone, too, so if we’re going by your logic, I’m not amazing, either.”

Myungjun was always so smart and witty and _ dorky _. Jinwoo still loved him, despite claiming otherwise. Jinwoo wanted him to stick around the stall forever, to talk and laugh and pretend things were fine between them.

“You are amazing,” Jinwoo replied and repeated. “_ So _ amazing.”

“Then so are you.”

Jinwoo knew arguing would be useless in this situation. Instead, he just sighed and returned to organizing his booth. “Shouldn’t you be at the restaurant?” he asked. “_ Sunshine? _ Shouldn’t you be there?”

Myungjun had perked for a brief second at hearing the word _ sunshine _, but then deflated again when he seemed to realize Jinwoo was only referring to the ramen shop. “Jiwoo is prepping. I told her I’d be back shortly.” He shuffled his feet. “What time is it?”

“Almost noon.”

Myungjun exhaled deeply. “Right,” he muttered. “I probably should head off. I’m shocked Jiwoo hasn’t called in a panic yet.”

So he was leaving. Just like that, he was leaving. Jinwoo thought he would feel relieved, but instead he felt guilt and regret and, oddly enough, homesick.

He didn’t want Myungjun to leave, but he knew better than to say anything against it. He knew better than to really involve himself in Myungjun’s life again. It hadn’t turned out well the first time; it was unlikely to turn out well a second time. Perhaps his life was infinitely better than it used to be, but that didn’t mean his mental health was any better. How could he accept Myungjun back into his life if he couldn’t even accept his own self?

As if recognizing the emotions Jinwoo was feeling, Myungjun smiled. He seemed to have many things he wanted to say, but he said none of those. Instead, he promised, “I’ll be back. If we don’t see each other on the bus, you know I’ll be back next week. I need to get more fish.” He stepped back. “Though, the offer to come and clean my tables is always opened. I bet Jiwoo will be happy for the help.”

Jinwoo looked away, and then Myungjun sighed. “See you later, Jinnie,” he murmured.

He walked off. Jinwoo spared him a glance. Despite all he had in his arms, he still walked straight and brisk.

Despite the darkness, he still shone.

And despite it all, Jinwoo still loved him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can catch yo with ya girl seal on her twitter [@thevonseal](https://www.twitter.com/thevonseal). there is where i shall post spoilers, schedules, and general nonsense.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so we see the noodles

Jinwoo hauled one of the nets over the side of the boat, grunting with the effort it took to do so. Fishing was hard work. He was smelly often and tired often, but he enjoyed it, regardless. He  _ liked _ fishing. He liked spending his day out at sea with only old fishermen to keep him company.

They kept him good company, too, smoking on cigarettes and babbling on about their home lives. Jinwoo knew that Sungho’s wife divorced him a while ago but he enjoyed living alone, whereas Jehyun’s wife passed away a few months before and he hated living alone. Donghee had three children who visited him often with extravagant gifts, and Woosung and his wife never had a child and so they spent their time volunteering at a local orphanage. 

Jinwoo never revealed much about his own life. The fishermen were aware he had once been in a gang; in the summer months, it was impossible to hide his tattoos. They had made comments upon noticing, and Jinwoo assured them it was all in the past, that he had run from his old life and was intent on focusing only on his new life.

That explanation seemed to appease them, and from then on they all treated Jinwoo as a son.

He was constantly asked if he had any friends, or a girlfriend, or if he needed someone to spend dinner with. They opened their homes to him if he was lonely, and they opened their hearts to him if he wanted advice.

Jinwoo wasn’t sure how they would react if they knew about his past relationships with other men. He wasn’t sure if they would still accept him upon learning he was gay.

In an ideal world, being part of a gang would be worse than being gay, but as long as society didn’t change, then Jinwoo would keep his sexuality a secret.

Some fish flopped around near Jinwoo’s boots. He tossed those into buckets that were already halfway filled with fish.

“We’re doing good today,” he told the fisherman closest to him, Donghee. “It’s not even midday and we’re almost done.”

Donghee smiled and nodded his head, watching as some other men hauled up another net. “If we finish by three, I’m going to buy us all a late lunch.”

Jinwoo gave a low whistle. “You’re treating all ten of us? That’s rather generous of you.”

But Donghee was well-off and only worked because he found retired life rather boring. He had plenty of money, and he much preferred to spend it on those close to him.

Jinwoo liked being some close to Donghee. He liked being someone close to  _ all _ of the fishermen. They accepted him and loved him and he felt like part of a family when he was around them.

Donghee laughed at Jinwoo’s words, but otherwise gave no response before moving to help another man gather up some of the fish that they caught.

Jinwoo was left alone to his own thoughts, and as he threw the net out into the sea, he began to wonder if Myungjun would enjoy being on a boat.

Surely he must. He had discussed before, back when they were in a relationship, of opening up his ramen shop right on the shore.  _ Seafood ramen is delicious _ , he would always claim. He apparently liked fresh seafood the best, since he came to the docks even when Jinwoo was not around. A love of boats, then, would not be too ridiculous to believe.

If he had never been on a boat, Jinwoo would have liked to take him out on one. They could leave at sunrise, when the cold was enough for them to carry big coats and heavy blankets. Myungjun would wear one of his cute beanies; Jinwoo would wear those yellow gloves. They would count the birds they saw flying around, and if Myungjun already didn’t know about them, then Jinwoo would identify each one he saw. They would fish together, a line hanging over the side of the ship. Jinwoo would teach Myungjun all about his commercial fishing boat, and then about how he liked to fish when he was by himself. Whatever they caught, Jinwoo would cook for them later, when they were off the boat. Perhaps they would kiss, soft and gentle, when the sun was high in the sky and they could shed their coats and blankets. 

“Jinwoo!” one of the fishermen yelled suddenly. Jinwoo, caught in his daydream, gave a start and spun around, hopeful his cheeks weren’t too red.

“Y-Yeah?”

“Your net is almost full already! Better start reeling it in!”

Ah. So it was. Jinwoo had been so preoccupied imagining a life where he and Myungjun could be together that he forgot all about his  _ current _ life.

The life he lived without Myungjun hooked to his arm.

As he pulled the fish into the boat, he wondered if he would ever move past what had happened to them. He didn’t think he could. The memory of his crimes was ingrained so deeply into his heart, and even if he pretended to be fine, he certainly wasn’t. He couldn’t help but imagine how much better Myungjun would be if they had never become intertwined. Myungjun would be happy and satisfied and content. He wouldn’t have left his family and moved far from home to live out on the shore in hopes of rekindling a doomed relationship.

Perhaps Myungjun was a fool. Anyone else would be a fool for such a ridiculous thing. It had been  _ six years _ and yet Myungjun still longed to be with him. Perhaps Myungjun was a dumb fool, too attached to the excitement of their relationship, and longed to relive his younger years.

But Myungjun didn’t seem to be a fool. Myungjun wasn’t actively chasing that life. Myungjun had moved on, it appeared, and was just happy with his new restaurant and the odd semi-friendship he found with Jinwoo.

Then Jinwooo must be the fool, for  _ he _ couldn’t move on and instead longed to relive the time he and Myungjun were happy together.

Jinwoo spent the rest of the afternoon arguing with his own thoughts, trying to convince himself that his past was over and it was time to move on. His arguments all failed, unfortunately, for he either berated himself or else determined that he was somehow worthy of Myungjun’s love and affection.

The end of the workday couldn’t come soon enough, but then Donghee reminded them all of the dinner he would pay for. Other fishermen cheered, and Jinwoo tried to figure out a good excuse in order to skip the gathering. Normally, he wouldn’t mind going out for food and some drinks, but ever since Myungjun had moved to the coast, Jinwoo’s mindset had plummeted for the worst. On days where he thought of Myungjun, he just wanted to go home and cry for a while. He wanted to wallow about in self-pity, for he was useless and pathetic and deserved nothing good in life.

Eating out with his fellow fishermen was the exact opposite of punishing himself, and he hated the fact that no excuse was good enough.

_ I’m not feeling well _ was met with, “You need some good food in your body, then!”

_ I have chores to do _ was met with, “You can do them tomorrow!”

_ I’m really tired _ was met with, “Just hold out for a little bit for us!”

And so Jinwoo was forced into Donghee’s van, squished uncomfortably by two smelly fishermen, dreading the rest of the evening.

He didn’t pay any attention to where Donghee was driving. His eyes were focused down on his feet and his mind was focused on his stupid, ridiculous past choices. When his coworkers made conversation, Jinwoo would respond, a little curt and short, but they didn’t seem to notice anything wrong. They carried on laughing and talking and declaring how excited they were for a good meal.

The van stopped. Jinwoo climbed out of the car and finally got a good look at his surroundings.

They were in the parking lot of  _ Sunshine _ .

“No,” Jinwoo whispered, shaking his head. He glanced back at Donghee, who had just shut the door to his van, and asked, voice as calm as he could make it, “Could...could we eat elsewhere? I don’t think I’m in the mood for seafood today.”

Donghee smiled brightly. “They have stuff other than seafood! I heard they have a really good kimchi ramen you can try.”

Jinwoo had tried it before. Jinwoo had tried a vast variety of Myungjun’s ramen. He loved it all so much, but it wasn’t the ramen he was worried about.

It was seeing Myungjun.

Still, there was nothing he could do that wouldn’t be seen as suspicious to his coworkers, short of running away and catching the bus home. So he allowed himself to be herded into the restaurant, where he was greeted with warmth and the smell of Myungjun’s home-cooked meals.

They took their seats. The restaurant wasn’t overly busy, as it was just hardly reaching 4 o’clock on a weekday, but it still seemed to be alive with conversation. The fishermen at Jinwoo’s table certainly added to that, with their loud, boisterous voices. 

A young girl scurried over, her smile bright and her bangs straight. Myungjun had mentioned a waitress. Jiwoo, wasn’t it? A name that had reminded Myungjun of Jinwoo.

She was cute and sweet as she took their orders. She definitely fit the vibe of the restaurant. She definitely fit with Myungjun.

Jinwoo ordered the kimchi ramen, so as to not raise suspicion with Donghee, and a bottle of soju to go along with it. He planned on drinking a lot. He planned on getting tipsy enough to forget he was miserable. Perhaps then things would be fine.

He sunk low in his chair. He was thankful he was shorter and surrounded by bigger men. He was also thankful they were in a spot not easily noticeable from the kitchen; once Jiwoo entered, Jinwoo quickly turned away, just in case Myungjun was nearby and noticed him.

He thought, perhaps, he could get through the dinner just fine. Their meals were taking a while to cook, but that was expected with the large quantity they had ordered. But Jinwoo assumed that once the food  _ did _ come out, he could eat it fast and then take his leave.

The soju came out first. Jinwoo didn’t hesitate to down a glass, much to the chagrin of his coworkers.

“Long day, Jinwoo?” Donghee asked with a chuckle. He patted Jinwoo’s back, and Jinwoo sighed.

“Sort of,” he responded, pouring himself another glass. “Tomorrow will be better, I think.”

Tomorrow would be a longer day. Two of the fishermen were going to be absent, and so Jinwoo would have to pick up more work. He didn’t mind the longer, harder days, however, for it kept his mind free from thinking of Myungjun.

He held the other glass up to his lips when, suddenly, he heard Myungjun’s voice. It was a sticky sweet, like honey flowing through Jinwoo’s ears, and he ducked his head in a hurry, hopeful he wasn’t noticed.

Myungjun was at another table, delivering some bowls of ramen. He was cheerful and giggling all the while, making the customers at ease and happy with the level of service they had received. 

On his other side, Sungho nudged him. “What’s wrong, Jinwoo?” he asked. His voice was loud. His voice could carry well. Jinwoo didn’t dare look up in fear that it carried to Myungjun.

“I’m fine,” he murmured, clearing his throat. “Just, ah...not feeling super hot today.”

He discreetly drank his soju. Sungho rubbed at his hair before feeling his forehead. With a hum, he replied, “You feel fine. Maybe it’s stress. Are you stressed about something?”

“Maybe,” Jinwoo said. He glanced up. Myungjun was walking toward their table, and so he downed the rest of his drink before shielding his face with his hands.

However, Myungjun didn’t slow down. He kept walking, past the table and back to the kitchen.

He hadn’t noticed Jinwoo.

It was some miracle, really, for he was familiar with some of the fishermen. He came to the docks when the market was open to buy fish, and some of Jinwoo’s coworkers had commented on how pleasant he was to do business with. Myungjun must have recognized some of them, and if he recognized them, then surely he would think to look for Jinwoo.

Jinwoo poured more soju, nervous and confused, and drank more.

“Slow down,” Donghee suggested, eyebrows raised and eyes wide with concern. “You haven’t eaten yet. You’ll get drunk before they ever bring out the ramen.”

“I’ll be fine,” Jinwoo muttered, drinking despite Donghee’s warning.

They had small appetizers brought out at some point, but even then, Jinwoo kept drinking and ignored the food in front of him. By the time Jiwoo was carrying the ramen to their table, Jinwoo felt dizzy and he realized he was already bordering on being drunk.

Jiwoo placed some of the bowls down. Sungho got his bowl and Donghee got his bowl. The men across the table got their bowls, too, but then Jiwoo left.

Jinwoo didn’t have his food.

“It doesn’t take that long to prepare a kimchi ramen, does it?” Woosung, seated across from Jinwoo, asked.

Donghee curiously looked back to the kitchen, then exclaimed, “They’re bringing it! Don’t worry, Jinwoo, you’ll get your food!”

Jinwoo followed his gaze. His stomach dropped in horror when he saw Myungjun walking toward him for a second time. A brilliant grin had settled on his face, and his eyes were bright with happiness. In Jinwoo’s drunken state, he thought briefly of running. He stood up, too, ready to run, but then found himself frozen in fear.

“You can sit down,” Myungjun said with a small giggle. “I can carry this just fine by myself.”

He set the ramen onto the table, arranging it nicely. Jinwoo spared it a glance. There was a little sausage on top, cut into the shape of an octopus, an accessory added only to his ramen.

Jinwoo’s coworkers definitely noticed. They watched the exchange, not yet taking a bite. Jinwoo cleared his throat and tried his best to think of something normal and nonchalant to say. “I...I was hungry,” he lied. “I was wondering what...why it took so long.”

“Oh. I had to make it special, you see,” Myungjun teased.

Jinwoo longed to tease him back. They had such good rapport when they were younger and together. They could tease and flirt and laugh with no trouble at all.

Unfortunately, things had changed between them and Jinwoo had no idea how he was supposed to respond.

So he didn’t respond. He sat down instead and grabbed his chopsticks, posing them over the bowl in order to eat. Myungjun didn’t move away, and Jinwoo didn’t actually eat.

Jinwoo dunked the chopsticks into his bowl. Still, Myungjun stuck right behind him. The fishermen continued to stare. Anxiety brewed within Jinwoo’s chest.

“You can go,” he said to Myungjun, refusing to look his way.

“I want to make sure you’ll enjoy it, first,” Myungjun responded. “Since I made it specially for you.”

Jinwoo grit his teeth down. He remembered being in  _ The Star _ before, Myungjun staring at him. He remembered how Myungjun refused to look away until Jinwoo rolled up his sleeves. He remembered Myungjun’s expression of horror and betrayal and disappointment.

He couldn’t look up. He couldn’t see those emotions on the man he loved ever again. He refused to put himself through such an experience for a second time. The first time was painful enough.

“I have to go,” he blurted out, standing for the second time. No one tried to stop him from standing, though Donghee did reach out an arm when he noticed Jinwoo swaying.

Myungjun took a step forward. “You drank too much,” he commented. “Eat something, okay? You’ll feel better once you get something in your stomach.”

But Jinwoo didn’t want to eat Myungjun’s food. Eating Myungjun’s food would remind him of the life he never got the chance to lead, the life he would never get the chance to lead.

“Eat it yourself,” Jinwoo snapped, shoving his bowl of ramen. Sungho managed to grab it before much spilt, and Donghee stood and put a hand on Jinwoo’s shoulder.

“Jinwoo, stop it,” Donghee whispered. His voice was kind, but stern. Jinwoo would be quite embarrassed with his behavior if he was sober, but in his drunken state of mind, he just wanted to yell and scream and cry over his horrible, pathetic life.

He tried to push Donghee aside. This time, it was Myungjun who stopped him, smacking his hand away from Donghee. “Jinwoo,” he scolded, eyes narrowed in a glare. “Don’t act like a jerk.”

Jinwoo hadn’t expected such a reaction from Myungjun. Myungjun was bright and happy and joyful. Myungjun didn’t do  _ this _ . It was weird. It was unusual. The fishermen seated at the table stared in alarm. Several seemed ready to jump out of their seats if necessary.

“This is your fault,” he slurred to Myungjun, shoving a finger into his chest. “Why can’t you just leave me  _ alone? _ ”

Myungjun raised his eyebrows. “You’re the one who came to my restaurant. Don’t act like this is my fault.”

It wasn’t Myungjun’s fault. It had never been Myungjun’s fault. It was always Jinwoo’s fault.

His eyes trailed down, toward Myungjun’s arm. Without asking, without thinking, he grabbed it. His fingers traveled down the length of the sleeve he held, and then he reached the bit where Myungjun had bunched up the fabric in order to keep it from hanging from his missing hand.

There was a clean cut, at least, and the skin had reacted well enough to the missing limb. It was a bit bumpy, a bit scarred, and Jinwoo’s fingers brushed over the spot, feeling the damage he had caused. He ignored the confused gazes and whispers of his coworkers, ignored Donghee trying to pull him aside.

He focused solely on what had also been his fault.

Myungjun placed his good hand on top of Jinwoo’s, thereby ceasing the exploration. When Jinwoo glanced up at Myungjun, tears in his eyes, Myungjun simply smiled. “Eat your ramen,” Myungjun repeated. “You’ll feel better once you do.”

But Jinwoo knew he wouldn’t feel better. He  _ never _ felt better. He was doomed to relive his past and doomed to always see the damage he had caused to poor Myungjun. 

“I...I want to go,” he said, speaking to Donghee. “I’m just going to...I’m going to catch the bus home. I’m sorry.”

“Are you sure?” Donghee asked, concern obvious in his voice. “I can drive you, Jinwoo.”

Even Myungjun looked at him in worry. Jinwoo had to get away. “I’m sure,” he confirmed, stepping back from those crowding him. Others in the restaurant had been watching. Hell, even the cheerful waitress was staring at him, eyes wide.

He had to leave.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Donghee,” he promised, and before anyone could say another word, he rushed out of the restaurant.

Myungjun called his name, but Jinwoo didn’t stop. He didn’t stop for the bus, and he didn’t stop for taxis that drove by. He would walk the rest of the way home, a punishment justly given for his sins.

And as he walked, he couldn’t help but cry.

It truly was all his fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can catch yo with ya girl seal on her twitter [@thevonseal](https://www.twitter.com/thevonseal). there is where i shall post spoilers, schedules, and general nonsense.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had a poll asking how much more angst i should put in. "a little bit more" won. :)

His outburst had been extremely embarrassing, and Jinwoo dreaded even making eye contact with any of his coworkers. He woke up that morning with a small headache and a large amount of guilt and regret and humiliation. As he took some pills to help with his headache, he gazed at himself in the mirror.

He had dark circles under his eyes and chapped lips and he just looked  _ sad _ . He thought denying Myungjun’s advances would make him a happier person, but instead he had become miserable and ashamed of himself.

He averted his gaze from his mirror and opened a drawer to his dresser instead. Life went on, and so must he. He rifled through his underwear and socks, but then his hand hit something harder than clothing.

Cigarettes.

He had forgotten he stored those in his drawer, meaning to keep it as a reminder of the demons he tossed aside. That’s what people did when they quit smoking, wasn’t it? They always kept cigarettes by their side, just to remember the life they once had led and had torn themselves away from.

The carton of cigarettes was six years old. Jinwoo ran a finger along the edge of it. 

His mouth was dry. His fingers twitched. He remembered how good it felt when he finally took a long drag of a cigarette after having any sort of difficulty in life. The smell of nicotine had always been enough to ease him sometimes.

And other times, the smell of nicotine made him want to vomit, even as he craved more and more.

Drugs had been like that, as well, though the pull of drugs always seemed stronger than the pull of cigarettes. Drugs were like alcohol. They relaxed him and calmed him. He forgot his troubles in life, ever so briefly, whenever he smoked weed. The harder drugs, while not as tempting, had always helped, too.

But he didn’t have drugs on him. He only had cigarettes. And with a curse on the tip of his tongue and disappointment deep in his heart, he grabbed the carton of cigarettes and pulled them away from the dresser.

He stuck one in his mouth. The familiarity was comforting to him. He rolled the stick in his tongue, relishing in the feeling, and then searched for his lighter.

He knew he hadn’t thrown away his lighters. They had been useful for purposes other than cigarettes, so he had likely kept them close by. He tore through each of his drawers, wondering where a young and emotionally scarred Jinwoo had placed them.

In the last drawer he opened lay a few accessories that never fit in with the other drawers. There were some belts and some ties and some hats.

And there was that old Pikachu plushie that Myungjun had won for him so many years ago.

Jinwoo forgot he had stuffed it in the drawer. He forgot he even brought it down from his attic and allowed it to see the light of day. He had hidden those yellow gloves up in the attic after Myungjun set them in his lap the day they met again, and he never remembered to check on the Pikachu.

He dropped the cigarettes, including the one in his mouth, and instead picked up the plushie.

It was still a little dusty, and it smelled a bit odd from being in the attic for so long. Its color was slightly faded, but it still managed to give Jinwoo that same, joyful glow as it had the first day Myungjun stuffed it into his arms.

Jinwoo pat its little top hat and frowned. He glanced over at his cigarettes, laying still on the wooden floor, and asked the Pikachu, “Have you seen my lighter?”

The Pikachu didn’t respond. Jinwoo held it to his nose and inhaled deeply. He could no longer detect the scent from his past life, a scent that was likely fueled with nicotine and weed. It made him a little proud that such a huge portion of his life was over with.

Then he stared at the cigarettes.

Obviously, he had yet to be done with the cigarettes. His addiction might have been defeated, but the craving had come back. There was in itch in his heart that he felt could be remedied with smoking, but he knew it wouldn’t fix anything. Smoking never had. He only picked up smoking in the first place in order to fit in with the rest of the gang, with people he considered his peers. Some of the fishermen now smoked, but they recognized it as being a nasty habit, and they never made it a point to offer any to Jinwoo. 

Jinwoo hugged the Pikachu plushie to his chest. His stomach turned. He felt ill. Work would be busy, and perhaps that would help him to feel better, but he didn’t want to go.

He called Donghee, all the while holding the plushie tightly in his grip. It was awkward to explain things, to tell Donghee he wasn’t feeling well and that, no, it wasn’t a hangover.

“Has something happened between you and the shop owner?” Donghee asked, after expressing concern over Jinwoo’s health. “You were a little weird with him last night.”

Jinwoo pushed the cigarettes aside. Looking at them made him want to vomit. He no longer had that itch.

“I’m sorry for my actions,” he said, a non-response. “I won’t act that way again.”

Donghee fell silent for a second or two before seeming to accept that Jinwoo no longer wished to discuss what had happened or how he knew Myungjun. He sighed and said, “Alright. You let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“Yes. Of course.”

Jinwoo hung up his phone. Calling out sick was doing nothing to alleviate the unpleasant feeling in his stomach, and he buried his face into the musty fur of the plushie.

Part of him wanted to run away again. He did it the first time, and it helped slightly. Perhaps the more he ran, the better he would feel.

But past problems would always catch up to him. He would feel guilty for the rest of his life, most likely. His past was not a happy memory, but it was a memory, nonetheless. It would remain in the forefront of his mind until he got hit by a truck and developed a severe case of amnesia.

“Amnesia is preferable to this,” he told the Pikachu plushie, who smiled back at him as if trying its best to offer some sort of comfort.

Short of running out into traffic and allowing himself to be severely wounded, there was nothing Jinwoo could do in order to forget what had happened.

He had to accept it. Somehow, someway, he had to accept that his past was part of him.

He put the Pikachu plushie back into its drawer and shut it. No need to torture himself with a lost love and a lost opportunity. No need to wallow about in self-pity.

He needed to clear his head. Just like his old room, his new place still carried with it too many memories. The framed picture of his mother was propped up on his bedside table, and the belongings he kept from Myungjun were tucked safely away. Staying inside all day was bound to make him go crazy, and so Jinwoo put on a jacket and stuffed his cigarettes inside a pocket.

Then he took a walk.

Walks were always pleasant. He sometimes walked along the coast and sometimes he walked through the town. Sometimes he hopped on a bus and watched the sights fly by, and sometimes he sat on a bench and watched the people fly by. 

Today, though, his feet carried him elsewhere. He didn’t go to the shore and he didn’t go to the bus stops. He didn’t stop by any of the usual places. He kept a fist in his pocket, knuckles brushing up against the pack of cigarettes, as he headed toward the shops he had always tried to stay far away from.

_Sunshine_ was that way.

_ Why this way? _ he asked himself, but neither his brain nor his heart gave him a direct answer. They beat around the bush, mentioning  _ pretty sights _ or else  _ fresh air _ , but Jinwoo knew, in the back of his mind, that he was only walking toward  _ Sunshine _ with the sole purpose of seeing his Sunshine. 

“My Sunshine,” he muttered. He prodded the packet of cigarettes. Now he wanted one, desperately so. Still, he didn’t stop. He walked, feet carrying him quickly around corners and through narrow streets. He ignored those in his path, determination shining clear in his stance.

His fear was overwhelming. His shame was even moreso. Who was he to stalk Myungjun like this? Who was he to even be allowed near the presence of such a glorious, bright figure? He was  _ nobody _ . He was nothing. He didn’t deserve someone as pure as Myungjun, not when he was shrouded in sin.

Jinwoo caught the eye of someone smoking, and with no hesitation, he took a cigarette out of its packet and asked, “Do you have a lighter?”

He had stopped smoking before he met Eric. He had stopped smoking shortly after arriving to Wando County in an effort to leave his past in the past. Quitting cold turkey had been difficult and his cravings hit him from time to time, but never _this_ bad. The moment he stuck the cigarette in his mouth and took his first drag, relief washed over him.

Guilt, too, washed over him.

He smoked as he walked. His fingers shook each time he held the cigarette back up to his lips, and he kept glancing around him and behind him as if someone would pop out and yell, “You’re regressing!” 

He was regressing, and he felt ashamed of himself.

It would’ve been better to turn around and go home. He could smoke in the privacy of his own house, away from the judgement of his peers. He could smoke away from  _ Myungjun _ , who would likely spot him through that large window of his ramen shop.

Jinwoo told his feet to stop, to walk the other way, but they wouldn’t listen. They carried him to  _ Sunshine  _ and then, finally, slowed.

The shop was closed. Jinwoo looked at his phone and sighed. It was too early in the morning for the shop to open. He was an idiot for thinking it would be open, and he was an idiot for coming out this way.

He sighed and took another long drag of his cigarette, then turned to leave.

Myungjun, good arm carrying heavy bags, had just rounded the corner, and his eyes grew wide when he noticed Jinwoo.

Jinwoo stared at him in shock. The cigarette had just come from his mouth, nestled innocently between two fingers, smoke lazily trailing from the tip of it. It was an incriminating piece of evidence that Jinwoo had not totally forgotten his previous life, that Jinwoo wished to relive pieces of his previous life. 

He wanted to leave. He _should_ leave. At the very least, he should put out his cigarette and pretend nothing had ever happened. But his body was frozen in place, eyes trained solely on the man in front of him.

Myungjun’s shock ebbed away. He smiled, as bright and cheerful as always, and hurried forward.

Jinwoo finally took a step back, but it didn’t deter Myungjun in the slightest.

“Help me carry these bags,” Myungjun demanded, holding his hand out. “They’re really heavy.”

He said nothing of the cigarette and nothing of Jinwoo’s random appearance. If not for the initial shock he had shown, Jinwoo would believe if Myungjun had expected this all along.

Jinwoo knew he ought to leave. He had been working hard to keep away from Myungjun, and after the show he put on yesterday, he knew better than to appear in front of his ex-boyfriend ever again, and yet here he was.

Myungjun gestured with the bags again, and that was when Jinwoo finally dropped his cigarette and ground it out with the heel of his shoe. “Right,” Jinwoo said, clearing his throat. He smelled like smoke, and he knew it, but he still gingerly accepted the bags from Myungjun. He could use both of his hands, he realized, which was something Myungjun was unable to do. His guilt returned. He wanted to run.

Myungjun pulled his keys from his pocket and unlocked the front door to  _ Sunshine _ . Jinwoo couldn’t run until he put the bags down, and so he hurried inside. “Where do you want these?” he asked in a grunt.

Myungjun, still cheery, pointed to the kitchen. “Right in here,” he said. “Ooh, I can show you how it looks! You haven’t seen back here, have you? It’s actually really cute. Jiwoo and I painted a mural on the walls in the hallway—”

“I’m not here for long,” Jinwoo interrupted. He dumped the bags onto the counter in the kitchen and then stepped away. “I should get going now. Excuse me.”

Before he could go anywhere, however, Myungjun reached out to grab onto him, effectively stopping him in his tracks. “You, ah...you’re already here, so why don’t you help me take the chairs down from the table?” he asked. Myungjun’s eyes were a little wide and a little frantic. His grip, too, seemed desperate, and Jinwoo’s heart skipped a beat.

Myungjun wanted him to stay.

Myungjun didn’t want him to leave.

After all Jinwoo had put him through, Myungjun still wanted to keep hold of him.

Jinwoo felt his lower lip quiver. He ducked his head into his chest so Myungjun would be unable to see just how close to a total breakdown Jinwoo was. “I shouldn’t,” he murmured.

Myungjun said nothing, but he didn’t loosen his hold.

It was too silent, and Jinwoo had to explain himself. He cleared his throat and said, “My attitude last night was terrible. My actions were uncalled for. I was...I was being stupid, and you don’t deserve someone as immature and reckless as I am.”

Still, Myungjun didn’t speak. Jinwoo glanced up at him, and Myungjun shook his head.

“Let go,” Jinwoo snapped.

Myungjun shook his head again and smiled. “The tables are waiting,” he exclaimed, brightly, and then Jinwoo shook him off.

“You don’t  _ care _ that you just caught me smoking in front of your shop like I used to do? And you don’t care that I’ve been rude to you since we’ve met again? And you don’t care that you lost your fucking hand because of me?” He took a step back. He couldn’t believe that he was yelling at Myungjun and he couldn’t believe that Myungjun was accepting it with no arguments. It made him furious with himself. “Myungjun, I’m still a horrible person! I—I don’t want you near me, alright? I’m a miserable sack of shit and why can’t you just find someone else who is worth your love?”

Finally, Myungjun spoke. His smile was gone, but he remained calm, even as Jinwoo yelled. “We’re not together anymore, Jinnie. You can smoke if you want to, but that’s  _ your _ decision to make. And I don’t think you’ve been rude to me; you’re just hurt, and I understand. If you’ve been rude, though, I would call you out on it. And my hand…” Myungjun pushed his sleeve back. He had no hand, and it still made Jinwoo nauseous to look at, yet he found it impossible to look away.

_ Own up to your actions _ , his brain mocked him,  _ and look at what you’ve done _ .

“I think becoming a one-handed chef as challenged me in life, but it’s been a good challenge. People are impressed with what I can do. I’m actually impressed, too. Isn’t it impressive?”

Jinwoo said nothing. He was ashamed of himself, not for the first time that day, and couldn’t find the words to convey exactly what he felt.

Myungjun didn’t care that Jinwoo was silent. Myungjun continued to speak anyway.

“I’m not asking anything from you, except that you take the chairs down from the tables. I can cook great foods, but I struggle with the chairs.” He gave a smile, apologetic and sweet, and Jinwoo felt pain in his heart.

He didn’t move. He said, “I haven’t smoked for years. Six years, I think.”

Myungjun raised his eyebrows. “Since we had last seen each other?”

“I mean, I smoked a lot after that. It was a vice. It was an addiction. But then I stopped.” He took the pack of cigarettes from his pocket and stared down at them. Such small, useless objects. Such a stupid vice. He hated them. “I found this in the back of my drawer. I was irritated today. I was upset. And when I used to be irritated or upset, I’d smoke. It was a stupid habit I fell back on.” He weighed the cigarettes in his hand and choked out, “Myungjun, I hate these so much.”

Myungjun stepped forward. Gently, carefully, he plucked the carton from Jinwoo and then dumped it in the big trash can.

“There,” he said, eyeing Jinwoo cautiously. “Now they’re gone and you won’t have so much hate in your heart.”

There was some sort of odd relief that washed over Jinwoo when he no longer had the cigarettes on his person. The weight of the cigarettes was heavier than he thought, for once it was lifted and tossed aside, he felt lighter than he had in years.

His eyes were watery. He had to wipe away tears before they fell, and he sniffled pathetically in hopes he wouldn’t cry in front of Myungjun.

Myungjun, however, noticed the unshed tears. He cooed lightly, the smile on his face turning sad. “Do you want a hug?” he asked. “Your hugs always comforted me when I was upset. I might not be as great of a hugger as you are, but I can try.”

Jinwoo snorted and shook his head. “I—I can’t,” he stammered out. “Not yet.”

His words were ambiguous but Myungjun seemed to understand. Myungjun always understood, and this time was no exception. 

“You can wipe your face in the bathroom, alright? I have some tissues in there.” Myungjun reached out and ruffled Jinwoo’s hair. He grinned, happy now, not as sad. “I’ll get started on the chairs, okay? You can join me whenever you feel ready.”

He walked into the dining room then, strong and proud, and Jinwoo watched him. For the longest time, he had done nothing but pity himself. He had cried and yelled and self-destructed simply because he hated his past.

Myungjun looked  _ passed _ the past, however. Myungjun only looked to the future. And in Myungjun’s eyes, Jinwoo had a great future.

For the first time in the longest time, Jinwoo was inclined to agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can catch yo with ya girl seal on her twitter [@thevonseal](https://www.twitter.com/thevonseal). there is where i shall post spoilers, schedules, and general nonsense.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only a little more angst to go through, i promise

On his days off, Jinwoo would head back to  _ Sunshine _ to help Myungjun take the chairs off of the tables and set up for the day. It was quick work, mostly, for there weren’t too many tables and chairs within the restaurant, but it was soothing work. Myungjun liked to play music as he prepped in the back, humming and singing along to whatever songs were on. Typically the music was trot, a genre Jinwoo hadn’t liked before but showed new appreciation for now. Myungjun would dance sometimes, when Jinwoo’s mind strayed far from the sounds of the music, when he looked down at his hands in guilt and regret at what all he had done in his youth. It was in those moments that Myungjun would exclaim, “Jinnie, look! Watch this!” and then he would dance along to the trot music. Jinwoo’s mind would come out of the dark place it kept returning to, and he would feel light and happy. He would sometimes clap his hands to the rhythm of the music, cheering Myungjun along as he danced.

Often, when he was finished setting up the dining area, he would retreat to the kitchen to watch Myungjun work. He had never seen a one-handed chef before, and Myungjun was right; it  _ was _ impressive. He used the stub on his arm to hold vegetables and meat in place as he chopped them. He still wore an oven mitt on that hand as he pulled pots and pans from the stove. He scrubbed dishes, too, the best he could, but most of them he left for Jiwoo to clean. “She doesn’t get angry,” he explained to Jinwoo one day. “She does work that I find too difficult to do. She does it without me asking. She’s honestly the sweetest girl I’ve ever met.”

Jinwoo felt a prick of jealousy, though he knew he was stupid for having such an emotion. And, in that same fit of jealousy, he asked, “Have you thought about dating her?”

Myungjun turned the water faucet off as some of his pots soaked. “No,” he replied without any hesitation. “You know I’m gay. Why would I date a girl?”

Jinwoo swallowed nervously and looked away. Once again, he was screwing things up, yet he couldn’t stop his interrogation. He was foolish.

“Have you, um, dated anyone?”

“No.” Myungjun shook his head. He certainly wasn’t embarrassed with his lack of a romantic life. If anything, he seemed proud to have been single for so long. “What about you?”

Jinwoo paused. He wanted to proceed with caution. He didn’t want to make Myungjun as jealous as  _ he _ had become. When he didn’t respond, however, Myungjun seemed to catch on. The question was no longer  _ have _ you dated. Instead, Myungjun asked, “Who was it?”

“Why do you want to hear about it?” Jinwoo asked, a bit scathingly. “Won’t you get upset?”

“Why would I get upset?” Myungjun asked. He hopped up on a stool he kept nearby and smiled. “Like I keep telling you, we’re not together, and we haven’t been together for six years. I expected that you would find someone else.”

Jinwoo nodded. What Myungjun said was true, though it did hurt to hear. They hadn’t been together in such a long time, and the time they had initially spent together was already too short. Jinwoo had been with Eric for longer than he had been with Myungjun.

Why, then, did his heart only ache for Myungjun’s love?

“I dated one guy,” Jinwoo responded. “His name is Eric. He’s an attorney. I still see him from time to time. It’s a bit awkward, but…” Jinwoo shrugged. “I don’t know. I just don’t think I fell in love with him.”

“How long did you two date?” Myungjun asked, swinging his legs back and forth.

Jinwoo shrugged his shoulders. “I...I don’t know. A year or two, I think. It wasn’t really that long.”

“And why did you two break up?”

Answering that question was difficult. He didn’t want to tell Myungjun that it was because of  _ him _ . He didn’t want to point the blame at Myungjun for something that clearly wasn’t Myungjun’s fault. He was happy he no longer dated Eric, for he never really loved Eric.

He answered simply, “Like I said, I didn’t love him.”

Myungjun fell silent. He seemed to have no more questions to ask. Instead, he nodded his head and gave a small hum. 

Things were quiet now. Jinwoo leaned against the wall, his eyes gazing over to the dirty pots that were piled in the sink. 

“Can I wash those for you?” he asked, carefully, quietly.

Myungjun glanced at the dishes. “Jiwoo was going to do it.”

“I’d like to.”

“Go for it,” Myungjun giggled.

Jinwoo was thankful for the distraction. He let his hands become soapy in the water, scalded by the heat, and he thought of how he only loved Myungjun.

When he looked behind him, Myungjun stared at him with adoration in his eyes and he didn’t look away, even when he had been caught. He simply smiled and said, “You’re doing awesome.”

There was movement at the front door. Jinwoo jumped briefly, dropping a bowl into his soapy water and effectively drenching his shirt with the splash-back. He cursed lightly, but managed to regain his composure when Jiwoo poked her head into the back. “Hey, Myungjun!” she greeted. Her eyes travelled to Jinwoo and she stammered, “Hey, uh, Myungjun’s friend.”

She obviously recognized him. There was no way she  _ didn’t _ recognize him. Jinwoo swallowed thickly and waved a wet hand to say hello.

Myungjun was the one to cut through whatever tension was forming. He hopped off his stool and said, “Jiwoo, this is Jinwoo! He was my first boyfriend.”

Jiwoo gave a small  _ oh _ . Her eyes filled with understanding. She  _ knew _ . Clearly she knew. She was acting far too nonchalant about the situation to  _ not _ know. But if she knew, she said nothing. She instead nudged Myungjun and giggled, “Your first and  _ only _ boyfriend, right?”

“All I need is one,” Myungjun retorted. “Besides, you shouldn’t mock me when he’s over there doing  _ your _ job.”

Jiwoo laughed again. Her smile was wide and her eyes were bright. She looked every bit Myungjun’s counterpart. “Fine, fine, I won’t mock you anymore! Anyway, it’s nice to meet you, Jinwoo! Myungjun’s always talked about you.”

Jinwoo blinked. He knew Myungjun wasn’t ashamed of their past relationship, but  _ he _ was. The selfish part of him hoped that Myungjun had remained quiet on how horrible things had been. He hoped Myungjun hadn’t spoken about the smoking or the drugs or his nasty tattoos that he kept under long sleeves. He hoped Myungjun hadn’t talked about the rough sex or his tiny apartment or the friends that hung around. 

The selfish part of him hoped Myungjun hadn’t mentioned any of that, but the part of him that was a glutton for punishment wanted Jiwoo to know all the gory details. He wanted Jiwoo to hate him as much as he hated himself.

“I wasn’t a good boyfriend,” Jinwoo stated, a little quietly. He grabbed a dish towel in an attempt to dry off his shirt. 

Myungjun was quick to interject. “He was a  _ great _ boyfriend!” he exclaimed. He hurried over to Jinwoo’s side and grabbed the dish towel. “Here, let me do that.”

“Are you two going to get back together?” Jiwoo asked as Myungjun drabbed at Jinwoo’s shirt. “Didn’t you break up because of the distance? Now that you both live here, will you—”

“What?” Jinwoo blurted out. He looked at Myungjun, who kept his gaze averted, pointedly staring at the damp spot on Jinwoo’s shirt. “Is...is that what you told her happened between us?”

Myungjun inhaled deeply. “No point in rehashing the past,” he murmured, patting Jinwoo’s shoulder.

Jiwoo looked confused. Her smile fell and she raised her eyebrows, obviously vying for an explanation. Jinwoo was unsure what to say, and so Myungjun broke in. “Jinwoo had to move,” he explained, the lie slipping easily from his tongue. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t struggle for an explanation. He lied as if he had been telling that lie for years.

And, likely, he had.

“We decided to break it off because it would be difficult to have a long-distance relationship. But we left on a cordial note.”

Jinwoo closed his eyes briefly and sighed. How he  _ wished _ that was the truth. How he wished he was a good person who treated his boyfriend with the respect he deserved. Instead, he had ruined Myungjun’s life and then ran away because he refused to own up to what he had done. That was something only a truly awful person would do. That was something only a truly awful  _ boyfriend _ would do.

“When I left him, he was in the hospital with his arm in a cast and his ribs broken and a concussion making it difficult to think,” Jinwoo said.

Myungjun’s hold on his shirt tightened. His eyes narrowed. “Don’t discuss it now,” he whispered.

Jiwoo looked on, still confused, still curious. “Was that...was he in the hospital for that accident?” she asked.

_ Accident _ . That was how Myungjun described it? Jinwoo turned to look over at her, and she expanded on her question, “Wasn’t he hit by a car?”

“Yes,” Myungjun said, hurriedly. He released Jinwoo with a small pat. He didn’t falter under the weight of his lie. He stood tall and strong and explained, “It was an accident. Thank god Jinwoo was there to help me, though!”

When Myungjun glanced back at Jinwoo, there was an unspoken plea in his gaze. He didn’t want to talk about things, apparently. He wished to bury them and forget about them, at least within the company of new people. It was a far cry from the Myungjun that Jinwoo had known initially, the Myungjun that had nothing to be ashamed of, the Myungjun who spoke about violence but reiterated time and time again that Jinwoo was not the one at fault.

Jinwoo couldn’t help but notice, though, that even in his lie, he still maintained the position that Jinwoo was innocent.

He thought of saying something. He wanted punishment, and a good punishment would be ostracizing himself from Myungjun’s sweet friends. However, he knew if he said anything, he would render Myungjun a liar in front of Jiwoo. She might also get the wrong idea and blame Myungjun for sticking by Jinwoo’s side despite all that had happened. Jinwoo never wanted Myungjun to be blamed for something that wasn’t his fault.

Jiwoo still eyed Myungjun and Jinwoo suspiciously, but when Jinwoo nodded his head, confirming Myungjun’s story, she relaxed a bit. 

“Well, do you want me to go ahead and open the restaurant?” she asked Myungjun, tearing her eyes from Jinwoo. “Or is there anything else I should be doing?”

Myungjun smiled at her and shook his head. “No, there isn’t anything else,” he assured her. “Go stick the signs outside and greet whatever customers you can, alright?”

She saluted — an affirmative — before heading out of the kitchen. Once Jinwoo heard the sound of the front door bells chime, signifying Jiwoo had gone outside, he asked, “What have you been telling people about your hand?”

Myungjun’s smile fell. He busied himself with some rice and stammered, “It...it was a car accident, I told them. I wasn’t paying attention and I stepped in front of traffic, and I got hit. You were nearby and you helped. We broke off our relationship when you decided to move here and I was unable to go with you.”

Jinwoo blinked. The retelling would be just as tragic, but Jinwoo knew he wouldn’t carry as much guilt should a car accident have occurred rather than a targeted attack. 

“Why?” he asked, his voice growing quiet as he contemplated what Myungjun had been telling people. “Why don’t you let them know the truth?”

Myungjun’s lips tightened. He shrugged his shoulders but otherwise said nothing, and so Jinwoo decided to dig a bit deeper into Myungjun’s lies.

“You’re ashamed of what happened, right? You were treated horribly by your boyfriend, you lost a hand  _ protecting _ your boyfriend, and you were left alone in the hospital by your boyfriend. So you...you’re ashamed to admit all of that, aren’t you?” Jinwoo swallowed and continued forward, though Myungjun looked as if he had plenty to say. “I don’t want you ashamed of what happened. It...it isn’t a burden you should have to carry. You trusted me and I betrayed your trust. It’s  _ my _ fault. I’m the one who ought to be ashamed of what I’ve done to you.”

“Jinwoo—” Myungjun started.

Jinwoo cut him off, bowing his head in apology. “I  _ am _ ashamed,” he murmured. “I’m so ashamed of how my stupid actions hurt you.”

“I’m not ashamed,” Myungjun insisted, though he averted his gaze. “I swear, Jinwoo, I’m not ashamed of our relationship. This sort of stuff happens sometimes. It’s probably normal.”

Jinwoo blinked. “Normal?” he repeated. He grabbed onto Myungjun’s arm, staring down at the ruined stump, and said, “Myungjun, this isn’t  _ normal _ . It isn’t  _ normal _ for someone to get beat up and stabbed while protecting their boyfriend. Why the hell have you convinced yourself that this is  _ normal? _ ”

Myungjun tore his arm away from Jinwoo’s grasp. He huffed, cheeks reddening out of either humiliation or anger, and he said, “Maybe it isn’t normal, but I’m still not ashamed of it.”

“Then why won’t you tell Jiwoo what really happened?” Jinwoo inquired. He crossed his arms over his chest and asked, a bit louder, “Why don’t you tell her who I really was when we were together?”

“I don’t have to tell her anything,” Myungjun hissed. He glanced out of the kitchen door, making sure Jiwoo was still outside, then said to Jinwoo, “She might get the wrong idea if I tell her. She might hate you for no reason.”

Jinwoo was in disbelief. Even now, even after everything, Myungjun wanted to protect him. Myungjun had lost an arm for him, and he was willing to lose even more. He had been lying to his close friends, hiding the secret of his past, all for the sole purpose of ensuring Jinwoo’s name wasn’t tarnished.

It was sweet. It was too sweet. Jinwoo didn’t deserve someone so kind and thoughtful in his life. He wished, not for the first time, that Myungjun hated him. Jinwoo deserved hate. Jinwoo deserved punishment.

“She can hate me,” Jinwoo offered. Myungjun looked at him, eyes wide, and Jinwoo continued, “I’m not a good person, Myungjun. I  _ should _ be hated for what I did to you.”

“You did nothing to me,” Myungjun retorted. He held up his arm. “This wasn’t because of you. How many times can I repeat that before you understand that you should not be held accountable for  _ anything? _ ”

Myungjun was familiar with lying, it seemed, for that was a lie. It had all been Jinwoo’s fault. Without him, Myungjun’s arm would be fine, freed from damage. He would have his hand still. His ribs would have never been broken and he wouldn’t have had a concussion and he wouldn’t have gone to the hospital.

It  _ was _ his fault, but even then, Jinwoo whispered, “I wanted us to be happy together.”

Myungjun’s stern expression fell. He shuffled a bit closer. “I know,” he murmured.

“I wanted...I wanted us to take the money and move out of that shithole. I would take you somewhere closer to  _ The Star _ . I was going to set up our apartment nice and neat. I was going to maybe go to college and get a job to support you. I had...I had so many plans for our life together.”

Myungjun watched him, cautious, then stammered, “We...we can still, um, still do those things, Jinwoo.”

But they couldn’t. Jinwoo was a glutton for punishment, and he would not accept happiness, even if Myungjun handed it to him on a silver platter. “I don’t want to be happy,” he replied, shaking his head. “I don’t deserve happiness. I deserve to live a miserable life and die alone.”

Myungjun remained quiet before, suddenly, he started to hum a song. It was one of his favorite songs, a trot song from the 70’s. It was old and outdated, but Myungjun had never seemed to care whenever he played it for Jinwoo. He had made up a whole dance for it, too, and now, as he sat there humming, Jinwoo could only imagine him performing that dance. It was a silly dance with exaggerated movements, and Jinwoo gave a small scoff, a sorry excuse for laughter.

Myungjun’s eyebrows were raised. He sang now, voice clear and bright, and grabbed at Jinwoo’s hand. “Dance,” he demanded.

“I don’t know it.”

“You’ve seen it enough. Here, I’ll show you.”

Myungjun sang the chorus, all the while putting on that ridiculous show. He swung his hips from side to side, swung his arms up and down, and kicked out his legs. Jinwoo could only watch with amusement, a grin growing upon his face, and he started to clap along to the music Myungjun was making.

It only ended when Myungjun accidentally spun around and knocked off all of the dry pots and pans from their position on the countertop. There was a loud clatter as they fell, and Myungjun scrambled backwards in order not to be hit.

He stumbled, tripping over a large pot, and Jinwoo, laughing in excitement, reached forward and pulled Myungjun upright again.

They embraced. Amidst all of the fallen cookware around them, Jinwoo pulled Myungjun into his chest and held him close. It had been under the guise of protecting him from a fall, but now that Myungjun was in his arms, he never wanted to let him go.

Myungjun took a deep breath. He pulled back slightly, a crooked smile on his face. “See?” he whispered, his nose just mere inches away from Jinwoo’s. 

“See what?” Jinwoo asked. 

Myungjun giggled and smacked Jinwoo’s shoulder. “You’re happy right now! And you deserve to be happy right now. And I’m making it my life goal to ensure you’re  _ always _ happy. Even if I have to follow you everywhere singing trot music and making a fool of myself, I won’t stop until you admit that you’re allowed to be happy.”

Myungjun was a pure soul, a bright soul. He shone brilliantly in Jinwoo’s embrace, and Jinwoo was reminded of the dark winter months when they met. He had thought Myungjun would allow him to bloom back then, but he ran. He ran from sunlight. He remained a dying daffodil, content with the pain life tossed onto him. But now that he had found the sunlight again, he wondered if it would make sense to run. He wondered if it would make sense to deny himself the pleasure of life.

Myungjun was his sunshine, and Jinwoo was willing to embrace the sun forever and ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can catch yo with ya girl seal on her twitter [@thevonseal](https://www.twitter.com/thevonseal). there is where i shall post spoilers, schedules, and general nonsense.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so begins the healing :)

While Jinwoo preferred to help Myungjun open the shop and while he preferred drinking coffee and chatting leisurely as the sun rose higher in the sky, there were times where his work did not permit an early morning visit the  _ Sunshine _ . On some days, Jinwoo was out on the fishing boat in the morning until late afternoon. Then, tired and wet, he would take the bus to  _ Sunshine _ to help Myungjun finish up for the evening. 

In the evenings, there was less chance to talk to Myungjun. The restaurant was usually full, and so Myungjun would be busy cooking while Jiwoo flitted from table to table, charming each and every customer with her gorgeous smile and sunny demeanor.

Jinwoo cleaned up when guests left. He piled dirty dishes into a plastic container and took them to the back, to the kitchen where Myungjun worked. As he would load up the dishwasher, he chatted with Myungjun. Usually they talked about mundane things, such as the type of dog Jinwoo wished to own one day or how a customer accidentally broke a bowl or whether or not a new recipe was taking off as well as Myungjun had hoped. He enjoyed those moments very much, and it was always with reluctance that he would part from the kitchen in order to continue cleaning the restaurant.

Myungjun offered to pay him, but Jinwoo didn’t want payment. He was arriving and helping for the sole purpose of company; not so much for Myungjun’s sake, but for his own.  _ He _ wanted the company. Myungjun was probably fine without him.

Myungjun was probably better off without him.

Though he thought this, he knew better than to mention anything to Myungjun. Myungjun was cheerful, regardless of the circumstances that had befallen upon him, and was always eager to prove Jinwoo otherwise.

On some days, Jinwoo believed him. On some days, Jinwoo wanted to scoop Myungjun up in his arms and hold him tight and stay beside him forever and ever. On other days, Jinwoo was withdrawn and reserved, fearing that his continued involvement in Myungjun’s life would result in another bout of misfortune.

No matter Jinwoo’s mood, Myungjun always made an effort to engage him with talk and laughter. He sought to bring Jinwoo out of his winter. He tried — sometimes forced — Jinwoo to smile and convey his innermost feelings.

It was during those times where Jinwoo would murmur, “I repeat myself a lot, but I feel as if I’m not good for you.”

Myungjun, pouring a few different spices into his broth, would always reply, “And I repeat myself a lot when I tell you that I’m a grown man, older than you, and can judge for myself who I should be around.”

It was silly of him to pretend Myungjun was an innocent and naive child, and yet he continued to do so. He berated himself whenever he felt mopey, reminding himself of Myungjun’s words. On the days it became too much, he stayed away, determined not to fill Myungjun’s  _ Sunshine _ with his own fears and concerns.

But as time went on, he felt better. With each passing day was a chance for more happiness, and Jinwoo, desperate and hungry for something other than the horrid helpings of self-pity, welcomed the joy to seep into his life. He was becoming blinded by the sunshine, and he wished to never again return to his winter months.

One night, rain poured down across the city, a torrential downpour made worse from their position on the coast. It was humid and sticky outside; the rain did little to clear up the accumulating heat of summer. 

Customers had been slow all night, and so they closed a bit early, Jiwoo venturing into the storm to return the  _ Open _ sign back to the closet.

She brought water with her, dripping from her rain jacket, and Jinwoo huffed. “Looks like I’ll have to mop again,” he commented.

Jiwoo turned back to look at the mess she created and gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sure it won’t take you that long,” she said. “I can do it if you want!”

Jinwoo liked Jiwoo, though, and he didn’t care to make her do the dirty work. He was fine with it, as it gave him more time with Myungjun anyway. He waved her off, chastising her, “Make sure you take off your rain boots next time.”

“Of course,  _ mom, _ ” she teased. She poked her head into the kitchen where Myungjun still worked, prepping ingredients for the next day. “Hey, Myungjun? Are you sure you don’t want to stay at my place tonight? I’m sure my dad wouldn’t mind. He likes you.”

Jinwoo perked up with curiosity. Myungjun had claimed there was nothing going on between them, as Jiwoo was younger and not a man, but Jinwoo, in all his jealousies and insecurities, still doubted when they spoke so familiarly to each other. 

To his great relief, Myungjun replied, “No, I’m good! I’ll probably sleep here tonight. It’s warm, so don’t worry, alright?”

Jiwoo remained unconvinced, but she bid them both farewell, regardless, and hurried off to her home.

She left Jinwoo with many questions, too, none of which he was brave enough to ask Myungjun. Did Myungjun lose his apartment? If so, why? And how? He made enough money from both of his restaurants, and Jiwoo had mentioned before that Myungjun lived in a more lavish apartment further from the coastal homes. How could he lose access to his apartment if he was so well off?

Those questions brewed in his mind, and he slowly made his way to the kitchen, where Myungjun was just finishing deveining some shrimp.

“Hey, Jinnie!” Myungjun greeted. He was always so adamant about using Jinwoo’s old nickname. Jinwoo didn’t want to stop him, either; hearing the familiar name brought him comfort most of the time, now that he was allowing himself that comfort.

Jinwoo returned the smile, albeit a bit nervously. “I heard you talking to Jiwoo,” he muttered, though he refused to speak any further than that.

Myungjun clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “She’s so loud sometimes,” he chided, as if  _ he _ wasn’t loud, himself. “It’s nothing terrible, though. The rain damaged my walls. The apartments are new, and I guess they hadn’t properly sealed the outside when it was completed, so my walls are soaking wet. They told me it wouldn’t take long to fix it, but until then, I’m just going to spend a few nights here. It’s not a big deal.”

It  _ was _ a big deal, though, at least to Jinwoo. He didn’t like the idea of such a bright ball of sunshine sleeping on the floor of his restaurant. Unless he slept in the kitchen, he would be in view of the large windows, too. People would see him. Memories of the gang flashed back to Jinwoo’s mind; if there was anyone like that here, they might break in and hurt Myungjun.

There was so much that could go wrong, and Jinwoo wouldn’t allow for Myungjun to sleep on the floor.

“Why don’t…” He cleared his throat as Myungjun stared at him. “Why don’t you come, um, spend the night with me?”

The question tumbled out of his mouth before he could truly think through his offer. He didn’t have much space; his house only had one bedroom. He didn’t have extra toiletries, either, and was unsure what Myungjun would do if he wanted to brush his teeth or wash his face or shave. He didn’t have  _ room _ , his heart told him, or supplies, but he knew, deep down, he was just fearful of Myungjun endearing himself once again. He was scared to fall, for if he fell then he could ruin Myungjun’s life.

Myungjun’s eyes widened at the question. “Do you mean that?” he asked.

Jinwoo couldn’t take it back. Myungjun looked so hopeful and denying him room would be horrible and rude.

Besides that, deep down, even as his heart cowered at the thought of Myungjun spending the night, it also cried out for his never-ending company. Jinwoo  _ wanted _ to see Myungjun sitting on his couch and drinking milk from his fridge and watching movies on his television.

So he nodded his head and plastered a small smile on his face. “If you don’t have any clothes, you can borrow some of mine,” he promised. “I’ll have to leave early tomorrow to be on the boat, but you can take your time. And, uh, I have a television you can watch movies on if you get bored of my company.”

Myungjun’s own smile was breathtaking. It was gorgeous. Jinwoo always found himself lost in paradise with each smile Myungjun gave. He wanted to bask in such a sunshine forever and ever. He never wanted to leave the warmth that Myungjun offered to him.

“Thanks so much!” Myungjun exclaimed. He cleaned up his workspace, thus finishing his preparation for the next day, and continued, “I promise I won’t be a bother. I’ll clean up after myself and I’ll stay silent. You won’t even know I’m there.”

“I’d like to know you’re there,” Jinwoo countered with a small laugh. “If I didn’t care for your company, I wouldn’t bother inviting you.”

Myungjun grinned. He pushed past Jinwoo to the storage closet where he pulled a backpack off the shelves. “I have clothes,” he commented, “since I was planning to stay here. And a toothbrush and deodorant. I’m well-prepared.” 

He had been well-prepared to sleep inside a kitchen or else on the chairs in the dining room in full view of the large windows. He hadn’t asked Jinwoo for help, either. 

Jinwoo hoped, in the future, Myungjun could lean on him in times of need, for Jinwoo truly wanted to help.

Myungjun locked up the shop for the night. The temperature outside was nice, with a slight breeze to ward off the stifling heat that summer was bringing with it, and Myungjun looked ethereal. He wasn’t bundled in winter clothes as he had been when they first met. He wore light clothes, summer clothes and Jinwoo found himself unable to tear his eyes away from Myungjun for more than a few seconds. It appeared Myungjun noticed, too, for when Jinwoo tripped over a sidewalk curb, Myungjun giggled, “Eyes ahead, Jinnie.”

“I’m not staring at you,” Jinwoo defended himself hurriedly.

“I never said you were.”

Jinwoo huffed, which caused Myungjun to giggle. “You  _ implied _ —” Jinwoo started, but Myungjun interrupted him.

“I didn’t imply anything. I simply said to keep your eyes ahead. You need to watch where you’re going.” He gave a small hum as they neared the bus stop, then added, “Not that I mind it when you stare at me. I feel all giddy inside. Plus, it’s cute. You’re like a hapless fool.”

Jinwoo pushed Myungjun lightly, and Myungjun laughed again as they both stumbled forward to catch the bus that had just pulled up.

The bus ride to Jinwoo’s house was pleasant. Whereas before Jinwoo had avoided sitting next to Myungjun, now he craved it. Myungjun called the window seat, curious to see the view Jinwoo always saw on his way home.

“Same view as yours,” Jinwoo commented.

Myungjun shook his head. “Not the same view,” he retorted, “especially because you get to look at me sometimes. I know the view  _ must _ be perfect when I’m on the bus.”

With a snort, Jinwoo nudged Myungjun again and Myungjun shot him a devilish grin. “You’re narcissistic, you know that?” Jinwoo fussed. In response, Myungjun only pretended to flip his hair and preen himself.

It was delightful, really, spending time with Myungjun as if they had never broken up. While Jinwoo still wrestled with doubts of self-worth, he couldn’t help but think it was even better than the first time they dated. The first time, Jinwoo had been living a lie. The first time, Jinwoo had subjected Myungjun to awful, horrible things.

This time, he was freed from his gang and the lies and the life he once knew. He was now able to show his true self, and he could rest assured that he would never hurt Myungjun again.

They reached Jinwoo’s house, and it was with much anxiety that Jinwoo unlocked the door and turned on the light.

His house was small, like the others within his neighborhood. Nice coastal homes were pricey, and Jinwoo had never been overly concerned with spending an abundance on a place to live. He liked it cozy, regardless. He had a nice living room and a nice kitchen area and a cute bedroom that overlooked the sea. It was perfect, and with Myungjun standing in the middle of the entryway, it was even better.

Jinwoo slipped his shoes off and then gestured for Myungjun to step in further. “You can go ahead and put your stuff down,” he suggested. “I’ll show you to the bedroom.”

“The bedroom?” Myungjun asked, peering past the hallway. “Why the bedroom?”

“You’ll sleep there. I’ll take the couch.” Jinwoo moved to grab Myungjun’s backpack from him, but Myungjun held it close, refusing Jinwoo’s hospitality.

“I don’t want to take your bed,” Myungjun replied, shaking his head. “The couch will be fine for me, I promise.”

Jinwoo didn’t like the idea of such a perfect being as Myungjun sleeping on the small couch. “It’s cramped,” he commented, glancing over at it. “It’s just a loveseat, basically. You won’t be comfortable.”

Myungjun shrugged his shoulders, though he did finally step into the home. “It’s better than sleeping on the floor of my restaurant.” Then, he switched subjects, denying Jinwoo the opportunity to discuss sleeping arrangements. He pointed to some pictures Jinwoo had on the wall and commented, “These are really nice. Where did you get them?”

The pictures in question were of sunrises and sunsets, of dogs peering out from chain link fences, and one of a cat soaking up sunshine on a brick wall. Jinwoo bit his bottom lip as Myungjun stepped close to them, staring upon them with admiration shining in his gaze.

“I...I took those,” he responded, his nerves shooting up. When Myungjun glanced back to him, he explained, “With that camera I bought when we were…” He trailed off, leaving behind the word  _ dating _ , pretending as if it never existed.

It was Myungjun, steadfast and strong and determined, who finished that sentence. “When we were dating?” Then, he asked, “Really? How old is that thing now?”

Thankful they weren’t focusing on the  _ dating _ portion of the explanation, Jinwoo said, “It’s pretty old, but it still takes good pictures, as you can tell.”

“It does.” Myungjun grinned. He turned back to Jinwoo. “So you finally became a photographer, right?”

“No.” Jinwoo snorted and rolled his eyes. “I didn’t get paid for those. I’m a fisherman, not a photographer.”

“It doesn’t matter if you don’t get paid for the pictures you take. You’re photographing something, which makes you a photographer.” Myungjun pointed at the picture of the sun rising over fishing boats and added, “I like this one.”

He really  _ was _ a photographer. He had never thought about it before, but Myungjun wasn’t wrong. He still used his camera and he thought the pictures he took were rather nice. 

Still, he didn’t want to boost his ego. He needn’t swoon over his own photographs; it would be rather tasteless to pretend he was above critique. Instead, he suggested, “Why don’t you go get changed out of your work clothes? I can put your dirty clothes in the wash.”

Myungjun beamed. The photographs were forgotten as he rifled through his backpack for the clothes he brought. “My pajamas are really cute,” he commented. “Look!” He pulled out a nice, cotton set of pajamas, a matching shirt and bottom. They had little bowls of ramen printed on all sides, with chopsticks and spilled broth and steam rising from the cartoon food. They were very cute, and Jinwoo commented as much without thinking.

In reply, Myungjun nodded his head, the grin on his face widening. “Mom bought them for me when I opened  _ Sunshine _ . They  _ do _ look cute — they look even cuter on me!”

Jinwoo laughed. “I bet they do.”

And they truly did. Myungjun looked warm and soft, his hair messy and his cheeks a little rosy. Jinwoo tried to keep watching him, even as he stuffed Myungjun’s dirty clothes into his washing machine.

If Myungjun noticed the continuous side glances, he didn’t mention anything. He continued to look over the photographs, to rifle through the collection of movies Jinwoo had under his television, to flip through the handful of books off to another side.

It was oddly domestic. Jinwoo could imagine coming home to the exact same scene late at night, perhaps after a long day of work. He wanted to see Myungjun in cute pajamas, waiting for him or else choosing what type of movie to watch. He wanted to have Myungjun to lean on when his doubts became too great to handle. He wanted to help Myungjun close up his shop and then ride the bus home with him, giggling and joking and flirting all the while.

He  _ wanted _ Myungjun.

Before he could express any of his desires, however, Myungjun looked up from the books and smiled once he noticed Jinwoo watching him. “This is different from your old place,” he commented.

Myungjun didn’t often bring up the past so when he did, Jinwoo always felt shame grip at his heart. Before the shame could overtake him, Myungjun straightened and walked closer to Jinwoo. “Your life has gotten so much better. You’ve become...you’ve become a person I’m sure your mom would be extremely proud of.”

He was quiet for a second, and Jinwoo said nothing.

Then, he added, “Jinnie,  _ I’m _ so proud of you.”

Jinwoo stared at him. Those words washed away the shame that was threatening him. Those words chipped away at the doubt piling in Jinwoo’s mind. Those words gave him renewed hope for his future.

He couldn’t say anything. His mouth didn’t work. His throat was dry. He tried to lick his lips and form a sentence, even a simple  _ thank you _ , but nothing would come.

Nothing except tears.

He had waited for such a long time for someone to express how  _ proud _ they were of him. He wanted others to notice the sacrifices he made in order to better himself. He wanted  _ Myungjun _ to recognize the obvious change and to comment on it.

Self-doubt nagged him:  _ He shouldn’t be proud. He lost a hand. That was your fault. _

Myungjun’s words tore his self-doubt apart:  _ But look how far I’ve come since then. _

“Myungjun,” he choked out, wiping at his face. “I’m so sorry I—I caused you pain in the past. I’m sorry I left. I’m so-sorry for everything.” He managed to smile, though, to grin despite the tears rolling down his cheeks, and he said, “Thank you for accepting me, Sunshine.”

Myungjun’s own eyes looked wet, but Jinwoo couldn’t tell. Perhaps they weren’t. Perhaps he was mistaken. It was difficult to see through his tears, and so he decided that maybe he was wrong. 

Myungjun closed the distance between them. He embraced Jinwoo tightly, arms snaked around Jinwoo’s waist. His one hand settled on Jinwoo’s lower back; the missing limb was obvious, but Jinwoo knew he wasn’t to be blamed for it, and he shouldn’t harp on it. Not tonight. Not during the one time someone was proud of him.

Jinwoo returned the hug, crying into Myungjun’s shoulder and hoping he would never have to let go of his Sunshine again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can catch yo with ya girl seal on her twitter [@thevonseal](https://www.twitter.com/thevonseal). there is where i shall post spoilers, schedules, and general nonsense.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jinwoo is a crab. a crabby lil feller.

“The beach near my apartment is really nice,” Myungjun commented one day, voice breaking up the silence that had fallen upon the small ramen noodle shop. Jinwoo glanced over at him, curious as to what the cryptic statement meant, and even Jiwoo stared at her boss in confusion.

“Are you inviting us?” Jiwoo asked. She turned her gaze to Jinwoo and narrowed her eyes. “Is he just inviting  _ you? _ ”

Jinwoo scoffed and returned to polishing the utensils he had just washed. “He didn’t invite anyone yet. Besides, would it be such a bad thing if he only invited me?”

Jiwoo frowned, but only for a split second. After considering the question, she shrugged her shoulders and said, “It’s not like I need to be invited. I can go to the beach whenever I want, anyway, and if I go, you two will probably keep goggling at each other and embarrass me in front of any hot guys that might be there.”

The fact that she was aware of their infatuation with each other was no secret. Myungjun  _ couldn’t _ keep secrets very well, and Jinwoo was tired of having kept secrets his entire life. He openly flirted now, coaxed by Myungjun’s gentle and sweet personality. In his head remained a constant repetition of words that he would never release:  _ It wasn’t your fault _ .

He was getting better. He knew he was; he  _ felt _ better. He could look at Myungjun without guilt weighing him down and he could dress in the morning without his tattoos and scars causing intense and horrible flashbacks. He had gone back to therapy, too, urged in part by Myungjun, and had found a man with a jovial personality and a strong belief in a bit of tough love. His experience with the new therapist was quite different than with his old one. He had made plenty of progress on his own, and now the man sitting before him, Mr. Choi, helped him along to reach the road of recovery even faster.

Now, sitting here with the silverware scattered before him and Jiwoo folding napkins, he felt comfortable. He felt happy. He felt like the rest of his life might turn out better than he would ever imagine it to.

He smiled at Jiwoo’s words, then turned to Myungjun. “Do you go to the beach often?” he asked.

“Not as often as I would like to,” Myungjun replied. He shut off the lights to the kitchen and then sat at the table along with Jiwoo and Jinwoo. “But I was going to go tonight. You should come, Jinnie.”

“Of course,” Jiwoo muttered under her breath, but when Jinwoo shot her a glare, she perked up as if nothing at all was wrong. “Hey, Boss, I folded all the napkins. Can I go home now?”

Myungjun nodded at her, then reached out to poke her face. “Don’t worry, Jiwoo, I’m gonna invite you to the beach another time. I just have some stuff to talk to Jinwoo about.”

Jiwoo giggled. She snorted when she laughed. Myungjun always found it endearing, and even now he grinned and nudged her softly. “Are you, are you going to tell him how you  _ feel? _ ” she asked, voice teasing.

Pretending he wasn’t listening to the conversation, Jinwoo cleared his throat and went back to polishing the silverware, maybe a bit too frantically.

In a mock whisper, Myungjun replied, “That’s private information, you weirdo.”

She giggled even more, obviously finding his answer amusing, and was still grinning widely by the time she grabbed all of her belongings and headed to the front door. She called out a  _ goodbye _ to both of them, but gave Jinwoo a cheeky smile and wink, to which he responded by rolling his eyes.

Once she was gone, Myungjun turned and looked over at the silverware Jinwoo was polishing. He picked up a spoon and asked, “So,  _ would _ you like to come with me to the beach?”

Jinwoo hadn’t really felt shy or bashful before when Myungjun made the suggestion, for he had been a little busy warding off Jiwoo’s consistent teasing. However, now that they were left alone in the silence, Jinwoo felt a blush come to his face. He glanced up at Myungjun, who kept his own eyes averted, content to only look upon the clean silverware.

“What are you going to, um...talk to me about?” he asked.

Myungjun shrugged his shoulders. “Stuff.”

“Is it something you could tell me here?” 

“I could.” Myungjun laughed lightly and put down the spoon he had been holding onto. “But I’d rather do it at the beach. It’s...I mean, it’s normal here and the beach is…” He trailed off and gestured out the window, as if that would explain things.

Jinwoo stared at him. “The beach is normal for me,” he said. “I’m out at sea every single day.”

“Yeah.” Myungjun sighed and leaned back in his seat. “I just...I thought, you know, it might be nice to spend some time with you. At the beach.”

It was a sweet gesture, really, but Jinwoo’s heart beat wildly in his chest. Myungjun wanted to tell him something; that’s what he said to Jiwoo, anyway, within earshot of Jinwoo. If it had to do with their relationship, then Jinwoo wasn’t sure whether or not he should hear it. While he no longer blamed himself for what had happened (most days), he still felt as if Myungjun was too good for him to actually date. Myungjun was moral and kind and had a good future ahead of him. Jinwoo had nothing to offer to that relationship.

But he didn’t want to reject Myungjun’s offer. Besides, his therapist had told him it was alright to indulge himself from time to time, to go along with Myungjun’s plans and enjoy it. He  _ deserved _ this, so he told himself. He wasn’t a bad person, and Myungjun wanted him along.

And so he said, “Let’s go to the beach, then.”

Myungjun’s face lit up. “Great!” he exclaimed. “I’ll, um...here, let’s put these away and then close the shop, okay?”

Jinwoo felt despair overtake him as he thought of the implications to what he had just agreed to do. He wasn’t just going out for a night on the beach with a friend; he was going out to the beach with an ex-boyfriend, likely to hear stuff about their lingering feelings for each other. He would be left to decide whether or not he would tell Myungjun that he returned such feelings.

On the bus ride to Myungjun’s apartments, he sat straight and tall, his evil, horrible mind trying to remind him of reasons he should not accept should Myungjun confess to him.  _ Because I might still be an addict, because I have no future, because he shouldn’t live as a homosexual man, because he saw me at my worst, because I’m a moron, because he lost his hand through involvement with me, because he deserves someone happy, because because because _ .

He didn’t like the direction his brain was going, however. He  _ wanted _ Myungjun to confess and he wanted to accept that confession. He wanted to date Myungjun properly and to treat him as he deserved to be treated. He wanted to be  _ happy _ .

Myungjun nudged him and Jinwoo gave a start. “Hey,” Myungjun whispered. “You okay?”

Jinwoo nodded his head hurriedly. “Fine,” he murmured.

Myungjun eyed him curiously for a few seconds, then said, “You’re overthinking stuff.”

“As per usual,” Jinwoo said, a jab at himself. Myungjun giggled at the self-insult before nudging Jinwoo’s side again.

“Don’t overthink. Just do whatever feels natural.”

But that was an issue, wasn’t it? Jinwoo didn’t know what felt natural. He didn’t know how to be a good boyfriend, for he had never  _ been  _ a good boyfriend. He left Myungjun after his hand was ruined, then he left Eric after having led the poor man on for over a year. If that was all what felt natural to him, then surely he was a terrible human being.

He said nothing in response, however, deciding that Myungjun certainly didn’t need so much self-deprecation. 

When they arrived to Myungjun’s apartments, Jinwoo could tell they were very close to the beach. He could hear the waves crashing against the bank and seagulls crying out to each other as they looked for spots to settle down for the night. Water had become a comforting thing to Jinwoo, and so as the bus pulled away, Jinwoo turned his eyes upon the fine, quiet beach. It was nothing like the loud hustle and bustle of the seaweed and fish farmers. There were no docks and there were no boats. There were no mini shops set up so customers could buy fish that they wanted, and there were no trucks parked nearby to load the fish onto. It was clean and pure.

It was so much like Myungjun.

Once more, Jinwoo realized the differences in their lives. Myungjun was untouched and perfect, just as his beach was. Jinwoo remained like his own beach; chaotic and out of control and dirty. Those two beaches were separated and would always be separated, lest the clean and pure beach become contaminated. In that same manner, he ought to separate himself from Myungjun to ensure  _ he _ wasn’t contaminated.

_ Contaminated by what? _ he asked his nasty, awful thoughts, and they didn’t have a clear answer for him. All that flitted about in his head was his drug usage from before, his loose character and rough personality. He cringed just thinking about how miserable of a person he truly was.

Then Myungjun grabbed onto his head and warmth seeped into his body as the sunshine tried its best to chase away the clouds of despair that had befallen upon him.

“Jinnie,” Myungjun murmured and they began to walk. Myungjun pulled him down to the beach and when they reached the sand, he bent down to take off his shoes.

Jinwoo decided to do the same, but he asked, “Should we carry them?”

“Nah,” Myungjun replied, shaking his head. “Just leave them. No one comes around here at nighttime, anyway.”

“And...and do you speak from experience?”

Myungjun grinned as he tossed his socks into his shoes. “Of course!” was his confirmation. “I mean, it’s so lovely out here, isn’t it?” Once Jinwoo’s feet were bare, Myungjun took his hand again and led him to the water. It lapped just before their feet, leaving white foam and bits of seaweed and rocks and some broken shells in its stead. Jinwoo watched in fascination before glancing over at Myungjun, who added, “Sometimes when I need to think, I come down here in the middle of the night. I think it’s beautiful. You can see lots of stars from here, can’t you?”

He could. They shone brightly in the night sky, but not nearly enough to illuminate their way. The moon was no help, either, offering only a vague sense of direction. Jinwoo had to turn on his phone flashlight, and then they could see the sand before them.

“Crabs burrow out here sometimes,” Myungjun continued. “I catch a few every so often for dinner, but then...sometimes I like to watch them.” He shone his light on the ground, looking for the crabs he spoke of. “I’ve started to feel bad catching them. They hide from the light, you know, and it isn’t their fault at all. They’ve just had bad experiences whenever they allow light to bring them out of the darkness. The darkness feels safer to them, and so they hide in the sand and refuse to ever take that chance.”

Myungjun was smart. Myungjun was clever. Jinwoo could easily figure out that metaphor and how it related to his own life. He, too, shied away from the light, just like the crabs did. He buried himself and chose not to attach his hopes and dreams back onto light, for he had received nothing in return but pain and heartbreak. He was just like the crabs.

“Smart crabs,” he couldn’t help but mutter, and Myungjun glanced over at him.

“Sure,” he agreed. “But sometimes don’t you think it’s nice to take a chance on happiness?”

Jinwoo swallowed thickly. He didn’t know what to say, and so Myungjun answered for him. “Yes, it  _ is _ nice to take a chance on happiness. Everyone deserves that chance.”

Jinwoo felt sick to his stomach. He didn’t know why. The voice in his mind wouldn’t ease up, wouldn’t allow him a shred of happiness. He squeezed Myungjun’s hand, a wordless request for comfort, and Myungjun quickly nuzzled into his side.

The thoughts died down. Warmth returned. Jinwoo wondered if he was reaching out for happiness, and he wondered if he would be able to grasp it.

“Jinwoo,” Myungjun whispered, “I think you deserve the chance.”

“I do,” Jinwoo found himself agreeing. Myungjun beamed at him, so Jinwoo shook his head to explain himself. “But I don’t want it. I can’t...I mean, I do want it. I want it so bad.” He heard Mr. Choi’s voice in his head, gently reminding him  _ you deserve happiness _ . He  _ deserved _ this. He had punished himself for far too long and maybe now he deserved to come out from his little hole in the sand. He deserved to grow as all daffodils did. 

“I took so many drugs. And I did so many awful things. And I...your hand was…”

“Jinwoo, it wasn’t your fault.”

“I know. I know.” Jinwoo sighed and ducked his head into his chest. “Then why do I feel so guilty?”

“I’m not sure.” Myungjun smiled and wrapped his good arm around Jinwoo’s waist. It was oddly romantic, especially since they hadn’t dated in years, but Jinwoo wasn’t about to stop him. The proximity, the closeness, was so comforting and Jinwoo longed for Myungjun to never pull away. “You shouldn’t feel guilty, though. Crabs don’t feel guilty when they prod their neighbor and say,  _ hey, it’s clear, let’s go out in the sunshine _ and then their neighbor gets picked up and taken for food.”

“That’s morbid.” Jinwoo frowned. “And I’m not a crab.”

“You’re acting like one.” Myungjun pinched his waist lightly and then leaned a head onto Jinwoo’s shoulder. “All snappy and ready to fight but a bit too scared to come out into the light for that fight. You’re acting like a crab.” He quieted for a second, then murmured, “And like a daffodil. Silent and sweet and pretty, but...you need sunlight to grow, Jinwoo. You have to accept it, or else you’ll wither away. And am I  _ not _ the sunniest sunshine ever?”

When Jinwoo didn’t automatically respond, Myungjun pulled away with a huff. “Am I  _ not _ the sunniest sunshine ever?” he asked with a bit more force.

Jinwoo couldn’t help but smile. “You...you are,” he replied.

Myungjun smiled, seeming satisfied with the answer he was given. He grabbed Jinwoo’s arm again but chose not to hold it this time, as he had before. Instead, his good hand played with the sleeve that reached down to Jinwoo’s wrist.

Despite the fact that it was summertime and the heat was unbearable near the coast, Jinwoo still wore only long sleeves. He was scared to let his tattoos show. He was scared to make his past known.

Myungjun, though, began to push up one of his sleeves.

“Stop,” Jinwoo hissed, trying to pull away, but Myungjun’s hold was as firm and steadfast as  _ he _ was.

“Why?” Myungjun questioned. The sleeve was pulled up past the wrist and tattoos were peeking out just underneath the fabric. “I want to see them.”

“There’s...no reason to,” was Jinwoo’s response. He tugged his arm away finally and pushed his sleeve down again. Myungjun looked on with interest, without a single shred of guilt, and Jinwoo cleared his throat as he rubbed at his arm. “I don’t like, um...I don’t like people looking at my tattoos.”

Myungjun grabbed his arm again. When Jinwoo struggled, he promised, “I won’t roll up your sleeves. I won’t look at them, if that’s what you want.”

“Then what are you doing?” Jinwoo asked.

Myungjun didn’t respond. He did bring Jinwoo’s hand up to his face and then he placed a soft kiss, right where fabric met skin. His kisses continued, being peppered upwards, making certain that practically every inch of the arm was given similar treatment. Jinwoo could only watch in astonishment, his chest clenching tightly at his heart and his lungs forgetting how to properly breathe.

When Myungjun reached the elbow, he whispered, “Your past is behind you, Jinnie. The bad things that you’ve done aren’t who you are. They were  _ never _ who you are.” Another kiss was placed and Myungjun continued, breath fanning over the shirt, “You’ve accepted you were bad, but you need to change that acceptance; you were a good person who did bad things.” Myungjun planted another kiss close to Jinwoo’s shoulder. “And now you are a good person who does  _ good _ things. Your circumstances have changed. You no longer take drugs and you no longer hang out with unsavory people. You’re able to do good now: you have friends in the wonderful fishermen at work, and in Jiwoo, and you help me out whenever you have time and always try to reject a paycheck, and you are kind and thoughtful and wonderful.” He finished his affection upon Jinwoo’s arm, and so he looked up and smiled. “You have accepted your past, but why can’t you accept who you are  _ now? _ ”

Perhaps with Myungjun by his side, laying such lovely praises upon him, things would be different. He already felt better. He felt happier. He felt as if he truly  _ was _ a good person. After all, would Myungjun ever fall in love with someone evil? 

Myungjun was smarter than that, and Jinwoo wondered if Myungjun was always able to see the good within him, even if Jinwoo ignored it himself.

When Myungjun stared at him, pretty eyes searching, searching,  _ searching _ for that self-acceptance, Jinwoo realized he would never be able to stray from Myungjun’s side again. He wanted to love Myungjun.

Without much hesitation, Jinwoo leaned forward and captured Myungjun’s lips in a kiss. 

It was so familiar, and yet so  _ un _ familiar. It had been so long since they kissed and Jinwoo was instantly enveloped by the emotions he had felt years and years ago. It felt like love, like true love, and Jinwoo felt himself blossom and grow. He wanted to grow tall. He wanted to become the tallest daffodil ever as he stretched out for the sun.

The sun was in his grasp, and Jinwoo adored the sun.

He pulled back, feeling quite breathless. His heart hammered in his chest and a large grin overtook his face. He couldn’t wipe it away. Happiness had consumed him and he wondered why he didn’t chase out this feeling even sooner.

Myungjun was a sight, even in the darkness that surrounded them. He shone, somehow, and Jinwoo was engrossed in his beauty.

“Date me,” Myungjun whispered, reminiscent of their past. Jinwoo remembered asking Myungjun out in a similar manner, the snow falling around them and Myungjun bundled up in his warmest clothes.

He nodded his head. “Yes,” was his response, and he leaned forward again for another kiss. “Of course, Sunshine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can catch yo with ya girl seal on her twitter [@thevonseal](https://www.twitter.com/thevonseal). there is where i shall post spoilers, schedules, and general nonsense.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fluff begins and never ends

Jinwoo awoke with a crick in his neck. His alarm blared beside him, emitting loudly from his phone, and he fumbled with it for a few seconds before he was able to press the snooze button. He had half a mind to go back to sleep, but when he rolled over, he had the uncanny feeling he wasn’t at home.

He opened his eyes and was met with an unfamiliar couch. Yup. He definitely wasn’t at home.

The memories of last night came back to him; Myungjun’s confession, their kiss, their promise to date — had that all really happened? He felt at his burning cheeks and confirmed with his inner thoughts that he wasn’t going crazy.

He was Myungjun’s boyfriend once more.

He glanced around the apartment. Myungjun had a large apartment, and it was loaded with plants. Big plants and small plants, colorful plants and green plants, ferns and small trees and flowers and vegetables. He had enough light emitting from the windows to provide for the plants well enough, but Jinwoo was still impressed with how much Myungjun could fit into his apartment.

He sat up. A blanket pooled around his legs, the same blanket Myungjun had given him before they both retired for the night. “It might get cold,” Myungjun had offered, a smile on his face, “so use this. I have more in the linen closet there—” he pointed and continued, “if you need anymore.”

It had been sweet, and Jinwoo had thanked Myungjun with a small kiss on his cheek. “I can go home, if you want,” he murmured. “I don’t want to impose.”

Myungjun had shaken his head and he grabbed onto Jinwoo’s arm. “You’re never imposing,” he assured. “I just...I’m so happy you’re here with me.”

It wouldn’t have been a big issue for Jinwoo to call a cab. He was going to do so after they stepped off of the beach, but Myungjun had asked, a little tentatively, “Do you want to spend the night?” And when Jinwoo raised his eyebrows, Myungjun corrected himself, “I-I mean, in separate rooms. I’m not...I just think it might be better so you don’t have to, um, get home super late.”

Jinwoo had eagerly accepted. He didn’t want anything to come out of it, but he did want to spend more time with Myungjun, to make up for all their missed years together. If he hadn’t been so foolish, he thought, they wouldn’t be in such an awkward stage.

As if reading his mind, Myungjun leaned into Jinwoo and muttered, “I’m happy we’re both grown and mature and won’t make stupid decisions.”

“You wouldn’t ever make a stupid decision,” Jinwoo said.

Myungjun had stared at him for a few seconds before his face lit up in a smile. “You mean it?” he asked, nudging Jinwoo lightly. When Jinwoo nodded, Myungjun whispered, “So me choosing to be with you _ wasn’t _ a stupid decision?”

Jinwoo faltered. “It...I mean...I was the stupid one for leading you on.”

“Nope.” Myungjun shook his head, refusing to accept what Jinwoo was saying. “Never stupid. Never, ever, ever, ever stupid. You chose your boyfriend well.” Myungjun posed, pursing his lips out in the cutest duck-face Jinwoo had seen. “Look at this. No one else can lay claim to this face ‘cept for you.”

And Jinwoo had laughed and kissed Myungjun again, overwhelmed with love and adoration. 

He had work early. Jinwoo knew that, knew that he should get up and get ready, but he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face, nor could he rid himself of the butterflies fluttering about in his chest. He looked over to one of the large windows, the one with the balcony, and noticed the sun was rising. The rays were trying their best to blind him, but Jinwoo was already blinded by an even brighter sun.

“Try your best,” he challenged the sun, and he knew it was likely cowering in fear of Myungjun’s sunny existence.

He finally rose from the couch and folded the blanket nicely behind him. He wore Myungjun’s pajamas (“These are my ramen ones,” Myungjun had proudly announced as he passed them over, “and I bet you’ll look adorable!”) so he knew he needed to change and wash his face. His clothes were in the bathroom, hanging up to dry (Myungjun had splashed a bit of sea water on them both in a fit of excitement), so he shuffled down the hallway.

Before he could enter the bathroom, however, another door opened and Myungjun peeked out from the doorway. When he saw Jinwoo, he grinned. “You’re up!” he exclaimed.

Jinwoo forgot how precious Myungjun looked when he had just woken up. His hair was a curly, tangled mess and his cheeks were slightly bloated. He had small dark circles under half-lidded eyes, and he yawned uncontrollably.

_ Beautiful _, Jinwoo thought.

“Hm?” Myungjun blinked at him, and Jinwoo realized he had said that out loud.

“Oh.” He blushed and gestured toward one of the windows. “The, uh, sunshine is beautiful.”

Myungjun grinned even wider. “Thanks!” he said, “You’re embarrassing me, though.”

“The sunshine is cheeky, too,” Jinwoo added, and Myungjun giggled at him.

“Are you getting dressed?” Without waiting for an answer, Myungjun slid out of his bedroom. He wore long sleeves, just as Jinwoo did, perhaps in some sort of weird solidarity. He had said as much anyway, claiming, “We can die of heat stroke together!”

Jinwoo glanced at the bathroom, at his clothes still hanging, and nodded his head. “I need to be at work early,” he commented. “In an hour or two.”

Myungjun nodded his head. “Alright. I can go ahead and start cooking breakfast for you.”

“You don’t need to cook me breakfast,” Jinwoo reassured with a smile. “I usually get something to eat at the store near the docks.”

But Myungjun wasn’t listening to a word Jinwoo said. He waved a hand and announced, “Omelettes sound yummy, right? Jinnie, do you still like hot pepper in your eggs?”

“I...yeah.” Jinwoo couldn’t deny that breakfast with Myungjun sounded lovely. While they sometimes ate food together in Myungjun’s restaurant when Jinwoo was off of work for the morning, it wasn’t the same as sitting at home and cooking together and sharing the meal they had made. He didn’t want to reject his desires any longer, so he said, “Let me change real fast and I’ll be right out to help you.”

“Take your time,” Myungjun told him, but Jinwoo hurried, anyway. He put his pajamas in a dirty clothes bin and combed his hair, and when he deemed himself handsome enough to face the day, he exited the bathroom and hurried down the hallway. He could already hear Myungjun hard at work, boiling water and beating eggs together. 

Jinwoo noted the vegetables that were mostly chopped already and the rice and beans that were already cooking on the stove. “You work fast,” he commented with a small whistle.

Myungjun looked back over at him. “I’m used to it,” he said. He held the bowl of eggs with his bad arm, keeping it close to his chest, and whisked everything together with his good hand. Jinwoo felt the familiar stab of guilt as he watched his boyfriend work.

“You’re used to it?” he murmured, a repeat of Myungjun’s statement. 

Myungjun smiled, but then seemed to realize what it was Jinwoo was referring to. He glanced at his arms, at his one hand, and joked, “I’m used to cooking and I’m used to cooking with one hand.”

When Jinwoo didn’t respond, Myungjun offered him a bright smile. “Jinnie, please don’t...don’t stress out over it. Look, it’s fine. I’m holding the bowl as I would’ve held it, anyway, and I’m...I’m fine, alright?”

He knew better than to blame himself. He couldn’t keep placing the blame on himself and yet do nothing in an effort to remedy the situation. If he was to take responsibility, than he had to step up to the plate and actually take responsibility.

“Let me stir that,” he murmured, pulling the bowl away from Myungjun. “You put the veggies in, alright?”

Myungjun seemed a little surprised that Jinwoo was taking the initiative, but he relented and followed Jinwoo’s instructions. The mushrooms and peppers and onions were plopped into the bowl, and Myungjun watched as Jinwoo folded them all together. Some spices were added, too, and once Myungjun deemed it complete, Jinwoo poured it out over a pan and passed off the rest of the cooking to Myungjun.

“Can you get the tofu, Jinnie, and fry it over the stove?” Myungjun asked, voice kind and sweet. He gestured over to another bowl, and Jinwoo picked it up with interest.

“You made tofu, too?” he asked.

Myungjun nodded, confirming Jinwoo’s question. “We’ll have omelette, tofu, rice and beans, and some kimchi I made a few days ago. Does that sound alright?”

“It...it sounds delicious. It’s a large breakfast.”

“It’s a _ hearty _ breakfast,” Myungjun corrected. “It’ll give you good strength as you work today, I think. I’ll get some coffee brewing in a minute or two, once these eggs are done.”

Jinwoo nodded his head before he got to work frying the tofu. It had been soaked in soy sauce, and the smell, salt and warm and comforting, wafted up to Jinwoo’s nostrils as he cooked. He loved that smell, and he could remember his mother cooking him tofu, too, when he was a young boy. He mentioned as much to Myungjun, who offered him a smile. 

“I hope mine is as good as hers.”

“It will be.”

“It’s hard to beat a mother’s cooking.” Myungjun hummed lightly as he finished off the egg and slid it from the pan onto a large plate. He cut it there; half for Jinwoo, half for himself. Once the egg was set aside, he turned to the rice and beans and gave it a small stir.

“These are ready,” he commented. “How’s the tofu coming along?”

Jinwoo gave it a push, but admitted, “I don’t cook tofu often. Is it done?”

Myungjun came around behind him to look. The proximity was exhilarating; just weeks before, Jinwoo would have balked at the idea of staying close to Myungjun. He would have found the concept ludicrous, for he wouldn’t ever wish to taint someone so pure and so perfect.

“Yeah,” Myungjun murmured. He tapped Jinwoo’s side, making him jump, then giggled at his own actions. “Put it in this bowl, then start getting everything set up at the table, if you don’t mind. I’m going to get the kimchi out.”

And so, once again, Jinwoo did as Myungjun requested of him. He didn’t know what else to do, anyway, and he wanted to help. He wanted to eat breakfast with Myungjun and to spend as much time together as possible.

He briefly considered calling out sick again. “Lovesick,” he would tell his coworkers, who would all sigh heavily and roll their eyes and still give the time off to Jinwoo, just because they were too damn nice. Of course, that meant he would have to hear the teasing in the morning, and then they might ask who the lucky lady was.

_ Not a lady _, Jinwoo thought, glancing over at his boyfriend. Myungjun hummed as he dumped the kimchi into a nice dish, and when he noticed Jinwoo looking, he did a miniscule and quick version of one of his many trot songs. Jinwoo laughed before grabbing the kimchi dish out of Myungjun’s hands. “You’re such a dork, Jun.”

“And you, apparently, have a thing for dorks.” Myungjun stuck his tongue out at Jinwoo and then took a seat at the table. “Come on, Jinnie. We have to hurry and eat so you can get to work.”

It was very domestic. Jinwoo felt out of his element; even when he was with Eric, nothing felt quite like this. It was new to him; the most domestic thing he had done with Myungjun was probably dinner on his bed. He had never gotten a moment to act like an old married couple before, and he absolutely adored it.

He said it out loud, too. “We’re basically an old, married couple, aren’t we?” When Myungjun looked up in confusion, Jinwoo gestured at their fine spread. “Coffee, a big meal, and you kissing me goodbye for work.”

“Ah.” Myungjun held up a finger. “I haven’t done that last one yet.”

“But you _ will _, won’t you?” Jinwoo teased.

“Of course I will,” was Myungjun’s response, emphasized with a scoff. “You must be crazy if you think for a single second that I’ll let you walk off without a goodbye kiss.”

Jinwoo couldn’t help the big, goofy grin that was plastered on his face. He couldn’t help but be so totally enamored with Myungjun, and he knew it showed, for Myungjun smiled right back at him.

They began their meal. Jinwoo ate a piece of the omelette first and commented, “Absolutely delicious, Sunshine.”

Myungjun beamed, bright enough to light the entire neighborhood. He nodded his head, as if agreeing with Jinwoo, and said, “But you helped.”

“I did nothing.”

“You stirred it for me! That’s half the battle. The other half is breaking the eggs.”

“And…” Jinwoo cleared his throat. “You can do that with one hand?” It seemed near impossible to him. Eggs had always required _ two _ hands, and whenever Jinwoo had tried with only one, he remembered the inside of the egg spilling onto his table, tainting everything with his sticky residue.

But Myungjun giggled at him and said, “Jinnie, I was breaking eggs with one hand since you were born, probably.”

Jinwoo hesitated for a brief second, wondering if that was actually true. He didn’t know if Myungjun would say something like that in an effort to quell any fears or worries Jinwoo had about the arm. He didn’t know how to ask, either.

As if sensing his discomfort, Myungjun stuffed a piece of tofu in his mouth and said, voice muffled around the food, “Watch.”

“Jun, you don’t have to prove anything right now. You should eat—”

Myungjun ignored him and scurried over to his eggs. He grabbed one and, mouth still full of tofu, broke it against a dirty bowl that had yet to be cleaned. He used one hand to do so, and the egg yolk slid uselessly down the sink.

Jinwoo was impressed with the skill and finesse Myungjun possessed. Nothing ever seemed to bother him. Nothing ever seemed to stress him out. He had progressed through life with only one hand, and yet he had opened up a brand new restaurant and proved himself a fantastic cook. He still lived like someone who had two hands. He never once complained or fussed. He carried himself with such pride and dignity that the bad arm was easily able to be overlooked. No one noticed it much, anyway, did they? The fishermen Jinwoo worked alongside never made any comments on Myungjun’s arm. They didn’t look at it often, either. Instead, they only spoke of how kind and polite Myungjun was, how he was nothing but sunshine on a cloudy day.

They were right, and Jinwoo had newfound appreciation for his boyfriend.

“Anyway.” Myungjun took his seat again and smiled. “That’s how it’s done.”

“You’re amazing,” Jinwoo murmured.

“It was just an egg.”

But Jinwoo didn’t care. Besides, he wasn’t talking about the egg, exactly. He was talking about all other aspects that made Myungjun utterly spectacular. How had he been so lucky to have found such a wonderful human being? Had the heavens looked down on him in pity and decided he needed someone in his life to change him and remake him? The daffodil in his chest had bloomed, and he felt like a renaissance had befallen upon him. Myungjun was the sole reason he had grown and reformed. Myungjun was his reason for everything.

He tried the kimchi, deciding against spilling all his thoughts. He wasn’t embarrassed of his mindset, not in the slightest, but he didn’t want to make their breakfast a sobfest. He didn’t want to force discomfort onto Myungjun.

“This is delicious,” he commented.

“Again, it’s because you helped me out.”

“Oh, just take credit for it! You’re an amazing cook and you know it.”

Myungjun watched him. The smile on his face met his eyes, making them sparkle and shine. He looked breathtaking. He looked far better than any stars Jinwoo would ever see. “Fine,” Myungjun said, giggling lightly. “I’m an amazing cook and I know it.”

Jinwoo was unable to breathe properly in Myungjun’s presence. How could he, when Myungjun was so perfect?

“I really like you a lot,” he whispered, the words spilling out as if pulled by some magnetic force. He wanted them to hit Myungjun. He wanted them to stick. “Myungjun, I’m...I love you.”

Myungjun blushed. He didn’t look away, however. He didn’t avert his gaze. He returned Jinwoo’s adoring stare and asked, “Have you always loved me?”

“Always,” Jinwoo responded. He was compelled to, though he was certain Myungjun was already well-aware of that fact. “Like I said, with Eric, I...I didn’t love him. I kept thinking of you, and only you. I regretted leaving, but I also regretted being by your side in the first place. I regretted _ loving _ you, but I couldn’t stop loving you. I _ can’t _ stop loving you.”

Myungjun’s hand lingered on his chopsticks for a few seconds. Then he scooped up some kimchi and held it out to Jinwoo. “_ Ahh _,” he urged.

Jinwoo opened his mouth, partly in confusion. Was that how a confession ought to go? But as he chewed, Myungjun replied, “I’ve always been in love with you.”

Jinwoo knew. Just as Myungjun had known of _ his _ love, so Jinwoo also knew. Hearing it, though, watching the words tumble gracefully from Myungjun’s mouth, was like a dream come true. He had waited years for his life to get better. He had waited with knowledge that it would _ never _ get better. Yet here he was, happy and blessed and beyond ecstatic. 

He loved his life.

He loved Myungjun.

Myungjun kissed him goodbye, just as he had promised, and then the one kiss turned into three and then the three multiplied into twelve and soon Jinwoo closed the door and stayed inside with Myungjun. “Just a bit longer,” he whispered, “I’ll be late. I can’t let you go just yet.”

And Myungjun, sweet, sunny Myungjun, just laughed and held him close and Jinwoo _ loved _ him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can catch yo with ya girl seal on her twitter [@thevonseal](https://www.twitter.com/thevonseal). there is where i shall post spoilers, schedules, and general nonsense.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's some violence here and a lot of language so read with caution

They continued with their routine, as they had before. Jinwoo would visit Myungjun at  _ Sunshine _ either early in the morning or later in the evening, depending on when he worked that day. Myungjun was eager to have him, and together they would work. Myungjun would cook and Jinwoo would assist Jiwoo in whatever she needed. She enjoyed ordering him around, though she often gave the order of, “You need to go give Myungjun a kiss now! Go, get to it!”

She was sweet. Myungjun often joked of adopting her. “I mean, biologically we can’t ever have kids of our own,” he said one day, and he laughed when Jinwoo nearly dropped the glass he was drying. “Don’t freak out, Jinnie. All I’m saying is that if we stick together for a long time, maybe we can stick a child in our lives. She’s a good child.”

“She’s seven years younger than me. That’s not exactly  _ child _ material.”

Myungjun shrugged his shoulders. “We can adopt an older child. There’s no rules against that.”

Jinwoo scoffed and said, “I’m pretty sure she has a loving family.”

“Ah, well.” Myungjun grinned. “I’ll just have to make her stick around here, like I’m making  _ you _ stick around.”

Anyone would willingly stick around Myungjun. He was sunshine through and through, and to reject his presence would be a death sentence. Humans needed the sun. Humans were unable to live without the sun. The world would be in ruins if it didn’t have a sun to revolve around.

Jinwoo’s world had been in ruins without Myungjun.

Things had seemingly gotten better overnight. It seemed so simple, really, to run back into Myungjun’s arms and beg for forgiveness. It seemed so simple to accept that forgiveness, too. Jinwoo wasn’t sure why he had waited so long to bring the light back into his life. He went to bed every day with a smile on his face, and he woke up with that same smile still plastered on his lips. Myungjun had made him a better person, a happier person, and his life was improving day by day.

And then one day Moon Bin had to ruin it.

Jinwoo had nearly forgotten all about Moon Bin and Lee Dongmin. They didn’t exist in his simple mind, for Myungjun hardly brought them up. He mentioned Sanha a lot, and Minhyuk more, but Bin and Dongmin had taken on the title of  _ my friends _ . It was rare he brought them up by name, though Jinwoo had been suspecting it was because Myungjun wasn't sure  _ how _ to bring them up by name. He had met Dongmin by trying to sleep with him, and he had caused Bin to hate his guts. A mutual friendship would never happen, and so Myungjun probably decided against bringing anything up for that sole reason.

But then Moon Bin ruined it all.

Jinwoo stepped into  _ Sunshine _ . It was a bright, sunny morning and he had that stupid smile stuck on his face as he began to prep for the day. Myungjun had come out of the kitchen to greet him, delivering a little smooch that made Jiwoo squeal and squeeze her eyes shut. It was all going so wonderfully, and then Moon Bin walked in the door with Dongmin behind him.

Dongmin greeted them with a cheerful, “Hey, Myungjun! Surprise!” but he stumbled into Bin, who had stopped just in the doorway and had eyes only for Jinwoo.

Myungjun stepped away from Jinwoo and blinked. He looked shocked. He definitely hadn’t expected such a visit, and it was clear he didn’t know what to do, but he responded to Dongmin’s greeting, anyway. “Binnie! Dongmin, what...what are you two doing here?”

“We came for a visit. We have bags — we can stay at a hotel, though, so don’t feel like you have to make room—”

He couldn’t say anything else then, for his attention was snapped over to Bin, who suddenly move forward with determination.

He was headed straight for Jinwoo.

Jinwoo supposed it made sense that Bin was glaring at him so hatefully as he strode onward. It totally made sense. They hadn’t liked each other to begin with, for Bin was fiercely protective over Myungjun. When Myungjun was put in the hospital, Jinwoo could only imagine that Bin’s hatred grew, and when Myungjun’s hand was too infected and ruined to justify keeping, Jinwoo could only imagine that he was lower than dirt to Bin, that he was useless and worthless and ought to be destroyed.

So it made sense that Bin punched him as hard as he could.

It had been a long time since Jinwoo had gotten punched. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he had been the victim of physical violence. Probably not since his gang years, where it was a normal occurrence. After so long of living a normal life, however, it was  _ ab _ normal, and it also hurt worse than he had remembered. He stumbled backwards, already feeling a hot pain spread across his entire face, and he cupped a hand up to his cheek as if to protect the spot that Bin had already wounded.

His ears rang. Bin yelled something at him and he strained to listen. “How  _ dare _ you show your face around Myungjun, you asshole!” Bin was exclaiming. Jinwoo turned back to him, backing up into a table as he struggled not to run and not to show how much pain he was truly in. Dongmin had grabbed onto one of Bin’s arms, keeping him from doing anymore damage.

“You got his arm sliced off, and you fucking  _ left him! _ ” Bin shouted, trying to toss Dongmin aside. “You don’t  _ deserve _ to be around Myungjun! How fucking  _ dare you! _ ”

Bin’s words washed over him like a tidal wave. The accusations destroyed the peaceful and serene beach Myungjun had helped him to establish in his mind. It was a typhoon now, threatening destruction to his otherwise perfect beach, and Jinwoo decided not to put up any defenses. He would take the punishment. He would sully himself in order to accept that he  _ was _ a truly rotten human being.

He deserved this. He deserved the beating and the harsh words.

He  _ didn’t _ deserve Myungjun.

“Let go of me, Min,” Bin hissed, trying his best to tear away from Dongmin’s grip. Dongmin was strong, fortunately, and was grounded in his determination to keep the two of them apart. “Let  _ go! _ You hate him, too! He fucking deserves to be hit!”

“Shut up!” Myungjun snapped suddenly, and he moved to stand in front of Jinwoo, blocking Bin’s access to him. Jinwoo took a deep breath and glanced over at Jiwoo, who looked shocked by the interaction she had just witnessed.

“Myungjun, he  _ hurt _ you!” Bin exclaimed. He was finally able to pull away from Dongmin, though he didn’t dare push Myungjun aside. His gaze found Jinwoo from over Myungjun’s shoulder, and he added, “He’s trash. He’s fucking trash, and—”

“He didn’t hurt me!” Myungjun replied, his voice rising with word. “God, how many times do I have to tell you? He  _ never hurt me _ . Is that clear for you, Bin? He—”

“His friends, then, they hurt—”

“It was someone he’d never met!” Myungjun glared at Bin for a few more seconds before he glanced toward Jiwoo, just as Jinwoo had. “Hey,” he said, voice calmer, “Can you go finish prepping the kitchen? I’ll...I’ll be done soon, alright?”

She was conflicted; she had great affection for Myungjun, and she obviously wanted to help, but she couldn’t disobey a direct order from her boss. After standing for a few seconds, useless and helpless, she nodded her head and scurried off into the kitchen, away from the fight.

Once she was out of the way, Myungjun turned to Jinwoo. He gently reached his hand to Jinwoo’s cheek, to feel the damage Bin had caused. “It’s going to bruise,” he murmured, shame seeping into his voice. “Jinnie, I’m so—”

“I’m used to it,” Jinwoo grunted, even though,  _ god no he was not, it hadn’t happened for a long time, it hurt and the words hurt worse and he hated himself right then and there and he ought to run away and stay away as Bin suggested and why was he deluding himself into thinking he deserved any bit of Myungjun’s affection? _

As if sensing the battle brewing within Jinwoo’s soul, Myungjun smiled at him. His smile was always so sweet. His smile was always so perfect. Jinwoo felt sunshine washing over him, clearing away the typhoon that was threatening his clean and pristine beach. He reached for it, longed for it.

Then Bin said, “Why the hell are you back with him, Myungjun? After what he did to you?”

“Dongmin,” Myungjun said, and Dongmin looked at him. “Can you drill it into Bin’s thick skull that Jinwoo never did a thing to me? Please? Because he won’t listen to me.”

Dongmin pushed Bin aside and gave an apologetic smile; even to Jinwoo, but Jinwoo’s dark thoughts came back because  _ no he hates me too, didn’t Bin say as much, he said as much, I heard it, he did say that, and of course Dongmin would hate me _ —

“He won’t listen to me, either,” Dongmin said, his eyes never once leaving Jinwoo’s. “Are you okay?”

Jinwoo nodded frantically, trying to display that outer persona he was so used to. He had been a liar to Myungjun, so he might as well lie again.

Dongmin, though, frowned, as if he noticed the lie. He asked, “Do you have a concussion? He hit you really hard.”

At that, Myungjun gathered Jinwoo in his arms and increased the severity of his examination. “Do you have a concussion, Jinnie? Let me see—”

“I’m fine,” Jinwoo murmured, and he grabbed Myungjun’s arms to take them off his body. He didn’t want to taint the love of his life. And he would, wouldn’t he? He would  _ taint him so so much because dirty beaches always tainted clean beaches, and he was a crab, a filthy crab like Myungjun suggested— _

Myungjun kissed his cheek suddenly. Warmth, once more, invaded Jinwoo’s body. Bin made a noise of protest, but Myungjun ignored him in order to smile at Jinwoo. “Wanna go help Jiwoo?” he asked. “Bin’s being a dick. Sorry for my language.”

He was fine. He really was fine. He took a deep breath as Myungjun watched him, and then shook his head. “I’m alright,” he replied, and his voice held the genuinity he had been searching for. When Myungjun tilted his head, anxiety shining in his eyes, Jinwoo smiled and kissed Myungjun’s nose. “Seriously. I’m fine. Might bruise, like you said, but I’m...fine in here.” He tapped onto his chest, where the daffodil lay. Myungjun stared at his hand for a bit, resting against his shirt, then beamed.

“Oh, you’ll  _ definitely _ bruise. But I’ll be right there to make it better, alright?”

Before Jinwoo could agree, Bin broke in again. “Are you fucking kidding me, Jun?” he asked, voice laced with annoyance. Dongmin hooked arms with him again, as if sensing another fight, but Bin chose not to move. “After what—”

“Oh my god, Bin,” Myungjun snapped, turning to face his friend. “Seriously, stop it. Stop treating me like I’m a little kid. Stop treating me like I’m still drugged up in the hospital. Stop treating me like I’m an idiot with no brain who can’t make decisions for himself. I’m older than you, and I know what I’m doing, alright? I’m dating the man I love, the person who’s treated me with nothing but respect and kindness since the day we met.”

Bin took a deep breath. “He  _ left you _ in the hospital!” he shouted, anger obviously boiling underneath his skin. “How is that  _ respect _ and  _ kindness? _ ”

“He apologized for that,” Myungjun said. “And I think it’s pointless to focus on what happened. The past happened, and it’s over, and now Jinwoo is free from his gang and I’m free to date him if I wish.” Before Bin could say anything else, Myungjun jabbed a finger in Dongmin’s direction and said, “Need I remind you, Bin, that your boyfriend wasn’t highly regarded, either, when the two of you started to date? And I was the one who advocated for you to get with him, remember? How the hell would it make you feel if I had punched Dongmin in the face and told him to stay away from you?”

Bin glanced back at Dongmin, whose ears had turned red and his gaze averted. Whatever had happened in his past was clearly not a great topic, for Bin’s jaw clenched as he turned back to Myungjun. “Leave him al—”

“Then you leave Jinwoo alone!” Myungjun snapped. “For gods’ sake, don’t run up and punch him, and don’t call him  _ trash _ ! He’s a human being, just like you are, just like  _ Dongmin _ is!”

Bin stared for a few seconds longer. He looked back to Jinwoo, who kept his eyes solely on Myungjun the whole time. He didn’t want to meet Bin’s stare. He didn’t want to see any hatred boiling down on the surface. Finally, after the silence had stretched on for a few extra seconds, he sighed. “We’ll go to a hotel,” he muttered.

Dongmin nodded his head. He said nothing in response, but he at least nodded his head. “Come on,” he murmured, pulling again at Bin. “Take the bags outside, alright? Call us a cab. Cool down a bit. I’m going to talk to Myungjun.”

Jinwoo was certain that Bin would argue, but instead he obeyed the order and dragged their luggage back out of the front doors.

They stood there, the three of them, Jinwoo still nursing his cheek. Dongmin told Myungjun, “You know how protective he is of you.”

“He doesn’t need to be.”

“I know.” Dongmin grimaced and glanced at Jinwoo. “Sorry he hit you so hard.”

Jinwoo didn’t get the chance to accept the apology, for Myungjun said, “Seriously, Dongmin, leave him alone.”

“I’m just—”

“You’ve been a jerk about him, too, even if you’re pretending to take the high road now.” Myungjun sighed loudly and ran his fingers through his hair. It was a mess now, and under any circumstances, Jinwoo would be obliged to laugh. Not right now, though. Not facing the hatred of Myungjun’s dearest friends. Not causing a rift to form between the three of them.  _ He _ was the one who should apologize.

“Dongmin,” he said, and Dongmin looked over at him in shock. “Look, I’m...I’m sorry.  _ I’m _ the one who should be sorry, because I...I did leave Myungjun there.”

Dongmin raised his eyebrows, but he didn’t wait for Jinwoo’s apology to continue. “You really hurt him,” he accused, “so I have to agree with Bin. But—” Myungjun was about to say something, and so Dongmin spoke louder, “—but Myungjun is also right. No one wanted Bin and me together, because I sucked, too. He gave me the chance even though all of  _ his _ friends would’ve killed to beat the shit out of me. So…” Dongmin offered Jinwoo a smile. “I’m willing to give you a chance.”

Jinwoo decided to keep quiet. He wasn’t sure of Dongmin’s motivations. He wasn’t sure if the warmth was real or fake. All he knew was that he didn’t want to make things worse.

After realizing Jinwoo wouldn’t respond, Dongmin cleared his throat again and gestured at the door. “I’m going to go with him. Can I call you later this afternoon?”

“I’m working,” Myungjun replied.

“Well, obviously, but can I still call you? We can visit each other in the evening, maybe.”

“Jinwoo works late.”

“I’m not asking to visit Jinwoo. I’m asking to visit  _ you _ . I think...I think it’s best if the three of us discuss things, anyway.”

Myungjun was tense. Jinwoo could tell from his stance, from the way his shoulders were rigid and his arms were straight down by his side, that the situation was very uncomfortable for him. But, to his credit, he nodded, and before Dongmin left, he added, “I’m glad you guys are here. Just...don’t act like dicks to my boyfriend?”

Dongmin laughed, a light, airy laugh, and nodded his own head. “Of course. We’ll be on our best behavior from now on.”

He left then, and Jinwoo watched as he spoke with Bin, serious and passionate, and then they both climbed into a cab. It wasn’t until they were gone that Myungjun turned to fully face Jinwoo. He smiled, though there was discontent in his eyes.

Jinwoo was the first to speak. “You shouldn’t fight your friends on my behalf.”

“But I’m right.” Myungjun touched the bruise forming on Jinwoo’s cheek. Jinwoo didn’t even wince, and so Myungjun called out, “Jiwoo, come bring some ice, please!”

Jinwoo could hear the young girl scurrying around in the kitchen. “She heard everything,” Jinwoo murmured. “I know you were trying to hide it—”

“It would’ve come out at some point,” Myungjun replied. His smile faltered and he said, “I don’t know why Bin’s acting like that. I stuck up for his relationship with Dongmin, and Dongmin was a huge snob. No one liked him. Everyone thought he was in it for something stupid, like Bin’s body or even Bin’s money, since his family’s well-off. I don’t know. All I  _ knew _ was that Dongmin seemed to really love Bin, and Bin seemed to love Dongmin even more. Anyway, I’m just...I’m sick of them treating me like their little brother. I’m older and more responsible and they still just...they don’t trust me to make my own decisions.”

Jinwoo wondered what it would have been like to have friends like that. He wondered if his friends would have been as protective of him as Bin and Dongmin seemed to be of Myungjun. He wondered if he would ever have friends who would stick with him until the end of time.

“They care about you a lot,” Jinwoo whispered.

“Well, they show it in weird ways.” Myungjun sighed as he looked over Jinwoo’s face. “I’ll have a serious talk with them about boundaries. And about how perfect you are.”

“I’m not—”

“You  _ are _ !” Myungjun cooed, kissing Jinwoo’s unwounded cheek. “My perfect boyfriend, my sweet, sweet, perfect boyfriend.”

The daffodil in his chest quivered for affection, and so Jinwoo decided to indulge himself some more. He would ignore the thoughts brewing in the depths of his heart, the thoughts that degraded himself. He would only focus on Myungjun’s words.

He would clean the typhoon that had washed over his beach and allow himself to live in the light of Sunshine from now on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can catch yo with ya girl seal on her twitter [@thevonseal](https://www.twitter.com/thevonseal). there is where i shall post spoilers, schedules, and general nonsense.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promised fluff and so u still have to trudge through some pain. nOT MUCH

Throughout work, Jinwoo’s heart beat with worry. He knew the other fishermen had taken notice of how often he looked down at his phone, for a few of them began to mention it. “Are you expecting a call?” one of them asked, and Jinwoo hurriedly pocketed his phone before shaking his head.

“Nope,” he responded. “Not really.”

And, honestly, he wasn’t. Myungjun didn’t have to call him. Myungjun didn’t even mention calling him. Not to talk about Bin and Dongmin, at least, and so by all accounts, he probably wouldn’t call.

But Jinwoo wasn’t content with that, try as he might tell himself he was. Jinwoo wanted Myungjun to call him and tell him all of the details, everything that had happened during their small talk. He wanted to know if Myungjun had managed to smooth things over with Bin and Dongmin, if they ended up deciding to trust him with the relationship. He wanted to  _ know _ these things, but his phone remained silent for the majority of the day.

Without Myungjun’s support and well-meaning words, much of Jinwoo’s self-acceptance began to tumble away. He had stopped at one point, staring at the men around him, with his hands deep in a pile of fish guts that he was tossing away, and he wondered  _ why _ Myungjun liked him so much.

_ Why? Why? Why? _

He didn’t gag from the smell of decapitated fish — it was normal for him. Did Myungjun like that? Did Myungjun care about that? Would Myungjun be happy that Jinwoo’s clothes all smelled like fish? Surely it was better than weed and cigarette smoke, wasn’t it? Or maybe Myungjun would prefer someone who smelled more like he did, like a home-cooked meal and lavender laundry detergent? Would he like dating someone who smelled disgusting?

And then Jinwoo wondered where his life was going. Was he going to do  _ this _ until he died? He didn’t mind the work, and he liked the people he worked with, but was it his final career choice? Would Myungjun want someone with more motivation? Myungjun had a lot of aspirations for himself; hell, he had worked and operated in two restaurants already, and with  _ Sunshine _ taking off as well as it did, Jinwoo wouldn’t be shocked if Myungjun invested in more opportunities. Wouldn’t he feel as if Jinwoo was weighing him down? Wouldn’t he want someone with similar life goals?

And then when Jinwoo went to the bathroom, he stopped to look in the mirror at himself and he swore.

Surely Myungjun wanted someone who could meet his beauty standard. Myungjun was gorgeous, the epitome of  _ perfect _ , and he shouldn’t date beneath himself. Why did he, then? Why would he choose  _ Jinwoo _ ? Jinwoo frowned at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were too small, weren’t they? His teeth weren’t that straight, either. He had  _ bunny _ teeth, so his mom always cooed to him, and he had never been able to afford braces growing up. He wouldn’t get them now, not ever, so he was stuck with ugly teeth until he died. Myungjun had pretty teeth, though. They fit his gorgeous smile. Myungjun also had nice, fluffy hair, hair that grew quickly and thick and was easy for him to style. Jinwoo’s hair usually lay flat on his forehead, the bangs always a little too choppy and the roots weak from years of dyeing it. He had every single color under the sun, and now his stupidity cost him the health of his hair.

He touched his eyebrows, barely visible on his face, and his frown deepened. Myungjun had good eyebrows; thick, but not too thick. They were noticeable, at least. Jinwoo longed for such eyebrows.

Myungjun had great eyelashes to cover his pretty eyes, his wide eyes, and he had thick lips that only added to his unique beauty. Jinwoo could only wish for such facial features.

He stared at his reflection, then looked down at his body. His sleeves were pushed up from having to wash his hands, and so his tattoos were on full display. There was the gang tattoo, the one he kept covered up with a bandage, the one he was most ashamed of, but today he peeled the bandage off to look at it.

His stomach felt sick as he forced himself to stare at the mark that had defined much of his life.

Then his eyes traveled further up his arm. He saw the naked woman, and the one giving someone else a blowjob, and he saw a curse word and he saw a skull with a snake protruding from the eye. They were such vulgar tattoos and Jinwoo put his arm under the water and scratched and scratched and scratched.

His fingers kept passing over the bumps and crevices in his arm; scars from his daring escapades and stupid nights out. He remembered one he got from the drug deal gone wrong — wasn’t that the second time he met Myungjun? And he remembered another one from the time he got into a fight with some men from a rival gang, and they had beaten him pretty well. Many of the scars came from after he met Myungjun, after Myungjun broke up with him that first time. He had gone out to cause issues, not caring much about what happened to him. He had already been tossed aside like garbage, so shouldn’t he be treated like garbage, too?

Myungjun ought to toss him aside again. He wasn’t worth it.

As he scrubbed and scrubbed to rid himself of the memories, someone else opened the door. Jinwoo wasn’t fast enough in moving his arm away from the rush of flowing water, and Donghee caught full sight of his tattoos.

All of the men knew about his tattoos. He had worked with them for years, so he would have been shocked had they not been aware. They knew, too, that he had past demons he hid, though none of them had ever asked about anything. They had accepted him regardless of the mysteries surrounding his previous life, and Jinwoo never let anything slip.

This, though, was a major slip, and Jinwoo stammered out, “I...I was, I got...I got fish guts o-on my arm. Just...I was washing it off.”

Donghee stared at him for a brief second before turning his attention to Jinwoo’s arm. Jinwoo hurried to pull down the sleeve, though he knew it would cause his shirt to become damp.

“What’s wrong?” Donghee asked.

Jinwoo took a deep breath and shook his head. “Nothing,” he swore. “It was fish guts. Really. Honestly.”

He could tell, though, that Donghee didn’t buy that for a single second. The man continued to stare at him. “You’ve been acting differently these past few weeks,” Donghee pointed out. “I thought it was a  _ good _ different at first, like maybe you found a girl to keep you company, but...this isn’t normal.” He gestured to Jinwoo’s arm as he spoke. “You trying to rip your tattoos off isn’t normal. Neither is that shiner you have on your face.”

Jinwoo said nothing in response. He wasn’t sure  _ how _ to respond. He wasn’t sure what he could say to make the situation normal again.

“What’s going on, Jinwoo?” Donghee was sweet, his voice soft and his words gentle. He waited for an explanation, but Jinwoo wasn’t sure what he could say. He wasn’t going to out himself yet. He  _ couldn’t _ out himself yet, in fear of being rejected and tossed aside.

So he stammered out, “I...I need to, um, to get back to work.”

Donghee nodded his head. He stepped aside so Jinwoo could leave the restroom, but he added, “If you want to talk, you can always talk to me.”

Jinwoo knew that to be true. Even if Donghee ended up hating him for his sexuality and his past actions, he wouldn’t ever betray a secret. Donghee would protect him until the very end.

Jinwoo just prayed he would never need such protection

**☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼**

He didn’t check his phone again until the bus ride home, where he knew no one from work could see his desperation and fear. There was one missed voicemail from Myungjun, and Jinwoo’s fingers fumbled as he held the phone up to his ear to listen to Myungjun’s voice.

_ Hey _ , said Myungjun, a little nervous and worried.  _ I hope you have a good day at work, Jinnie. I’m really sorry about Bin, but I had a talk with him, and with Dongmin. They’re both still a little concerned. I’ve told them so many times you are nothing but good to me, and you want nothing but love, and I’ve finally convinced them to go on a double date with us. Like, um, like what we used to do, you know? Remember that one time we went out with them? It mostly sucked, but this time will be better, because Bin is going to behave or else  _ I’ll _ punch  _ him _ . Anyway, I’m just now closing the shop so I hope you sleep well.  _ There was a pause, and then,  _ I love you so much. I hope you’ll always know that. Night, Jinnie. _

Myungjun’s voicemail ended, but Jinwoo stayed with the phone pressed against his ear, as if waiting for more of Myungjun’s beautiful, melodic voice. 

He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to go along with Myungjun’s plans and meet up with Dongmin and Bin, but at the same time, he  _ knew _ they hated him, and he was scared if Myungjun hung around them anymore, then Myungjun would end up hating him, too. He was scared Myungjun would listen to them and agree with them and end up leaving Jinwoo.

Jinwoo put his phone in his pocket and then gripped at his arm, fingernails digging into the skin.

If Myungjun left, could Jinwoo really blame him? Jinwoo had been the one to leave him first; what if Myungjun returned the favor? He couldn’t even begin to imagine how horrible he had been for leaving Myungjun alone in that hospital bed. He still woke up at times during the night with Myungjun’s cries echoing in his head. He couldn’t escape how terrible his actions were.

Why on earth would Myungjun choose to stay with him? He could have so much better.

If not for the shirt covering Jinwoo’s skin, he knew he would draw blood. His grip was too tight and his hand shook with the effort of trying to cause himself pain.

The bus rolled to a stop. It was Jinwoo’s stop, the one that led him home, and yet he didn’t get off. He wasn’t sure what to do once he arrived home, and so he stayed on, instead, and watched his neighborhood pass by as the bus continued down the street.

Where was he going? Where did he want to end up? There was nothing else this way, save for Myungjun’s apartment.

Jinwoo swallowed thickly and then released the grip on himself. He had never shown up to Myungjun’s apartment unannounced. Hell, since the first time he had seen Myungjun’s place, he hadn’t been back. He had been content to keep their dating separate from Myungjun’s apartment, in fear he might move too fast. He shouldn’t be going there now, not at all, and yet his heart  _ longed _ to see Myungjun. He didn’t want to go back home where he would be greeted with a lonely, dark, empty house. He wanted to see Myungjun at  _ his _ place, with all those flowers and plants, with the balcony view of the beach, with  _ Myungjun _ .

Perhaps he ought to call. Jinwoo thought of that briefly, but chose against it. If Myungjun was asleep and didn’t hear the doorbell, then Jinwoo would turn and leave.

“This is stupid,” he mumbled to himself, then ran his fingers through his hair. It was all incredibly stupid, and he knew it. He shouldn’t be going to Myungjun’s house without permission. That wasn’t something most respectful men did to their lovers, and yet here he was.

He had half a mind to get off at the next bus stop, but he couldn’t will himself to stand. He sat there silently, watching as his chances of being a good boyfriend kept dwindling away, until finally the bus pulled up to the stop he knew was Myungjun’s stop.

Only then did he exit the bus.

He berated himself all the while.  _ Stupid, stupid, stupid _ , he told himself as his feet carried him to Myungjun’s luxurious apartment. He should leave now. He should retreat home and text Myungjun and leave it at that.

But he didn’t stop walking. Onward he went, up the little hill, past a few houses, and then to the nice apartments where Myungjun lived.

With one deep breath, he passed the threshold and continued up the stairs for one of the three buildings in the vicinity. Myungjun’s apartment was toward the top; he liked the view, he had told Jinwoo, that the balcony had offered. Jinwoo liked it, too, though he liked staring at Myungjun more than he liked staring out the windows.

When he reached Myungjun’s door, he rang the bell and then stood back to wait. His anxiety grew worse with every second that passed, and he finally had to squeeze shut his eyes as if to hide himself from the shame that was oozing past his guarded heart.

Myungjun answered the bell, and his voice sounded over the small speaker. “Hello? Can I help you?”

Jinwoo bit down on his lip and then pressed the button and spoke. “Hi,” he said. “It’s...it’s me. Jinwoo.”

There was silence for a second. Jinwoo wondered if Myungjun had hung up on him. It wouldn’t be uncalled for; Jinwoo would have hung up on himself if he had a boyfriend so needy and miserable and awful. 

But then the door opened and there stood Myungjun. He wore his cute ramen pajamas, a matching shirt and pants set. Jinwoo stared at him for a second before Myungjun asked, “Are you alright?”

He didn’t deserve Myungjun. He didn’t deserve someone so amazingly wonderful and sweet and kind and perfect in every way. He should just pack up and run away again, for Myungjun needed someone better than him.

Jinwoo didn’t want to run, though. He wanted to stick by Myungjun’s side and be with him through thick and thin. He wanted to spend the years making up for his past mistakes. He wanted to love Myungjun; god, how he longed to love Myungjun for all of eternity!

Myungjun repeated his question, and then Jinwoo, spurned by Myungjun’s words, stepped forward and gathered his boyfriend into a tight embrace.

“I love you,” he whispered. 

Myungjun was still for a second, likely taken by surprise, but was quick to hug back. “I love you, Jinnie.”

Jinwoo nuzzled his nose into Myungjun’s neck and took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry,” he continued. “I had...I had a moment of weakness. I just...I was thinking about what Bin said, and what Dongmin said, and maybe they’re both—”

“You should ignore what they said,” Myungjun told him. He kissed Jinwoo’s cheek and then right below his ear. “I told you, I had a talk with them.”

Jinwoo nodded his head. “I know,” he said. “It’s...hard, sometimes, to ignore what I’ve done to you in the past.”

Myungjun pulled back slightly. With his hand, he smoothed down Jinwoo’s hair, a soft smile on his face. “You did nothing to me.”

“Were you upset when I left you in that hospital bed?” 

Myungjun wrinkled his nose. “Let’s...let’s not talk about that right now.”

“Were you?”

His boyfriend hesitated. Then, he said, “Yeah. Yeah, I was really upset.” He kissed Jinwoo’s nose and giggled. “Bin wanted to kill you, and I thought that if Bin could go kill you, I’d tag along so I’d get to see you again.”

His heart plummeted. He had made Myungjun upset. He had just left him there, left him all alone, and now Myungjun likely despised him, likely held that betrayal deep in his heart—

“Hey.” Myungjun’s hand traveled down and cupped Jinwoo’s cheek. He kissed Jinwoo again, soft and sweet, and murmured, “Don’t you dare overthink things.”

“I’m not…” Jinwoo trailed off, finding it rather pointless to defend himself.

Myungjun sighed. “You were. I know you were. And you shouldn’t, because I know why you left. I mean, I was upset at first, and I missed you for ages, but I understand  _ why _ you had to leave. And I’m happy you did, because you were able to carve out a new life for yourself. Look at you, Jinwoo! You have a house, and you have a good job with people you love, and you’ve been doing so well!” Myungjun’s smile grew. He kissed Jinwoo again, a little longer this time, and Jinwoo found himself kissing back. “The only issue,” Myungjun said when they drew apart, “is that I was so scared you were all alone. I didn’t want you to be alone. I comforted myself with the idea that maybe you found someone else to love, and they were helping you through everything. It sucked knowing you didn’t love me anymore, but I thought I could handle it as long as someone else loved you.”

Jinwoo shook his head. His nose bumped up against Myungjun’s nose. “No. No one else. No one but you.”

Myungjun pouted, but it was swiped away with another kiss. He smiled against Jinwoo’s lips, then said, “I’m sad that you had no one else, but I’m also happy I’m the only person you’ll love. I’m conflicted, Jinnie.”

For the first time all day, Jinwoo finally smiled. He grinned and he felt Myungjun grin, as well, and he kissed Myungjun’s cheeks a few times. “Sounds conceited.”

“Oh, I’m very conceited. I thought you would’ve figured that out by now.” 

Myungjun released his tight grip on Jinwoo’s body and stepped aside. He gestured to the door of his apartment and asked, “Want to come inside? It’s late; might as well spend the night.”

Jinwoo shuffled his feet. “I feel like I’m intruding.”

“I  _ want _ you in my place. I live in this big apartment all by myself, and it gets pretty boring sometimes.” He leaned forward to kiss Jinwoo, a quick and chaste kiss, then excitedly announced, “I have board games we can play! I’ll make us some tea and we can play board games! We’ll have fun tonight!”

All of his worries from before seemed so trivial now. He knew Myungjun loved him, and he knew he was worthy of such pure, innocent love.

He would accept it, and he would make sure his life continued on the upwards trajectory it was currently on.

He deserved Myungjun’s love.

“Alright,” he said, and Myungjun grinned widely.

Jinwoo deserved Sunshine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can catch yo with ya girl seal on her twitter [@thevonseal](https://www.twitter.com/thevonseal). there is where i shall post spoilers, schedules, and general nonsense.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so the angst is minimal for yall :)

Bin stared at him, eyes glowering and lips tight. His stare was rather piercing, and it was most certainly uncomfortable. Jinwoo found himself shifting in his seat and he leaned over to Myungjun and asked, “Um, so...so how much longer before we get a lane?”

Myungjun noticed Bin’s glare. He glared right back and he snapped, “Stop making my boyfriend uncomfortable, you moron.”

“I’m just looking at him.”

“He’s not making me uncomfortable,” Jinwoo quickly said, trying to avoid any potential conflict. He didn’t want Myungjun and Bin fighting. He didn’t want to come between two close friends. Part of him wondered if he should bow out and let Bin have his way, but then he thought about how much he loved Myungjun and how much Myungjun loved him back. He wouldn’t leave; he  _ couldn’t _ leave.

He would just have to make an effort to become tolerated by Bin.

Myungjun shook his head at what Jinwoo was saying. “I know you, Jinnie, and I know when you’re uncomfortable, and Bin is making—”

“I just want to know what time it is,” Jinwoo whispered. He wished he could become invisible so Bin could stop staring at him and so Myungjun could stop trying to cause a scene.

Myungjun sighed and looked at his phone. “They said twenty minutes to start with,” he murmured, “so...maybe ten more minutes now?”

Ten more minutes in Bin’s scrutiny. Jinwoo hated those numbers. He cleared his throat and said, “I think I’ll go use the bathroom.”

“Are you sure you aren’t going outside to smoke?” Bin asked, his voice scathing. 

Myungjun looked ready to fuss at Bin, perhaps ready to fight, and so Jinwoo held out a hand, effectively stopping him. To Bin, he said, “No. I gave up smoking a while ago. I’ve only done it once in the past five years, and that was...that was a moment of weakness. I don’t smoke anymore.”

Bin rolled his eyes and looked away with a scoff, so Myungjun spoke up, “What's your issue, Bin? Your sister smokes and you’re fine with that. Why are you policing whatever Jinwoo does?”

“Because my sister isn’t dating someone who hates smoking.”

“He’s not smoking!” Myungjun exclaimed, voice beginning to rise. “He just told you that—”

Jinwoo had to cut him off again. He didn’t want any fights taking place between Myungjun and the other two men. He couldn’t deal with it if he broke apart Myungjun’s friendships. 

“Bin,” he said, “can I talk to you in the bathroom?”

Bin didn’t look his way. Bin acted as if he hadn’t even spoken. It was Dongmin, worriedly looking between them, who nudged his boyfriend and murmured, “Bin, just go.”

“Don’t make him go!” Myungjun snapped. “He’s going to beat Jinwoo up—”

“I told you I wouldn’t!” Bin fussed. He stood, as if trying to make a point to Myungjun, and turned his glare back onto Jinwoo. “Let’s make it quick,” he grumbled.

It wasn’t the attitude Jinwoo really wanted to see from Bin, but at least Bin was being compliant. At least Bin was now following him into the dirty, public restroom, which fortunately only had a few children milling about. Jinwoo smiled kindly at them and waited until they left to turn to Bin.

Bin, however, started to talk before Jinwoo could even open his mouth. 

“I don’t like you,” Bin said, keeping his voice down low. “I told that to Myungjun. I don’t like you and I don’t  _ trust _ you. You hurt him  _ twice _ , remember? And the second time you hurt him, you didn’t even take responsibility — you just  _ left! _ ”

“You would’ve hated me even if I stayed,” Jinwoo accused. “I know you would’ve. You never did like me. And I don’t necessarily blame you. I hated myself. I just…” He took a deep breath. Bin was staring at him again, though less hateful now. “My mom had cancer when I was in high school. I didn’t know what to do; I never knew my dad and I was alone and I panicked. I needed the house still, and I needed to pay my mom’s medical bills, so I started to take loans from the gangs that lived around us. I made a promise I would pay them back, with high interest. It was so stupid, but I didn’t know what else to do. And...and when my mom died, I had nowhere else to turn, so I turned to them.”

“If you’re expecting any sympathy, I’m not going—”

“I’m not expecting sympathy,” Jinwoo replied. “I just want you to understand that I made stupid decisions. I made  _ really _ stupid decisions. But I hadn’t...I didn’t want to be involved in the gang.”

Bin stared at him. He leaned up against one of the sinks in the bathroom, eyes narrowed as he studied Jinwoo. “So why did you leave suddenly, then, when Myungjun was hurt?”

Jinwoo still recalled that day he came home, happy and excited and  _ free _ , and found Myungjun in such pain. He still remembered his heart breaking when Myungjun curled into his arms, and he remembered how difficult it was to leave Myungjun’s side. He couldn’t get the images out of his mind, but he managed to stammer, “I...I left the gang. I made the money to leave, and I...I paid them off. And I left. I was so happy, Bin, you don’t...you don’t understand how ecstatic I was. Things would change. Myungjun and I were going to move closer to his restaurant, and I was going to get a steady job, and…” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “I thought leaving him would make things better. He...He didn’t need me, not really.  _ I _ needed  _ him _ , and…” Jinwoo felt like he was rambling. He wasn’t sure what else to say, so he looked desperately at Bin and added, “I love him, though. I want to stay with him.”

“I gave you a chance before,” Bin told him, eyes looking down at the tiled floors. He seemed conflicted. He seemed upset. Jinwoo couldn’t very well blame Bin, but he hoped to make some sort of breakthrough. “And you left. You left Myungjun in that bed with a hand the doctors were unable to save. He was...he was upset, and he—”

“He told me,” Jinwoo breathed. He felt guilt piling up in his stomach. “I asked him about it, and he told me. I’m so sorry for leaving, but at the time, it seemed like the best option.” Jinwoo felt shame wash over him. “I was stupid and I was scared and I didn’t know what else to do.”

Bin sighed. He was silent for a few seconds before he asked, “And you’re no longer part of the gang anymore?”

“Right.”

“You’re a fisherman?” 

Jinwoo nodded his head. The tiny bathroom was suffocating him. He wanted to leave and plaster himself to Myungjun’s side and never part from his boyfriend again. He didn’t want to deal with Bin’s interrogation.

“Do you smoke?” Bin asked, “Or do you take drugs like you used to?”

Jinwoo shook his head. “No. I haven’t, I swear.”

Bin pushed himself off of the sink and pursed his lips. He seemed unsure still, but Jinwoo said nothing to ease his conscious. It wasn’t as if what he  _ had _ said did anything. “Myungjun’s been my best friend since we were kids,” he commented, “and if I see you hurting him again, I won’t hesitate to beat the shit out of you.”

“Alright,” Jinwoo agreed. He would welcome the beating. If he hurt Myungjun again, he wanted to be punished, and Bin was tough. Bin was strong. He knew the punishment will hurt, just as he deserved. 

He was willing to keep quiet then, to leave the bathroom and just enjoy the evening with Myungjun and his friends, but he thought of one more thing to say. He thought of something that he couldn’t keep to himself, and he blurted out, “I won’t hurt him again. I won’t ever hurt him again. I love him more than anyone, and I won’t hurt him.”

Bin raised his eyebrows. “I bet you made that promise before.”

“I did.” He had made the promise to himself he wouldn’t hurt Myungjun, and yet he left. He left Myungjun in that hospital bed. He ran away from life’s troubles in order to ease his own guilt. Shifting uncomfortably where he stood, Jinwoo muttered, “But I’ve punished myself enough for that. I’ve had so many years of unhappiness and I just...I want to be happy. I want to make up for my mistakes, too, and I want to love Myungjun forever.”

He could tell that Bin wasn’t fully convinced, but nothing more was said between them, accept Bin’s grunt and a gesture to the door. Jinwoo wished the hammering of his heart would cease as he walked back to the small waiting room, where Myungjun was standing impatiently. 

“Hey!” Myungjun greeted, as if Jinwoo had been gone for hours instead of a few minutes. “Is everything alright?”

Jinwoo nodded his head and grasped onto one of Myungjun’s hands. “Fine,” he murmured.

Myungjun glanced to Bin and asked, “Did you harass my boyfriend?”

“Jun, he didn’t harass me,” Jinwoo whispered. “It’s fine.”

Dongmin didn’t seem overly concerned. He appeared relieved, actually, and he smiled over at Bin before looking toward Myungjun and Jinwoo. “The lane should open soon. I think you two might lose to me and Bin!”

Bin smirked. He caught Jinwoo’s gaze and he added, “I’ll crush you.”

It was a threat, really, a continuation of what Bin had warned him from earlier. Jinwoo felt his jaw tense as he considered those words, but before he could say anything back to Bin, Myungjun spoke up. “You’re being a brat, Bin.” He scoffed and sat back down again, pulling Jinwoo with him. “Just ignore him,” he told Jinwoo, loud enough for Bin to hear. “He’s jealous because my boyfriend is super hot.”

“Are you implying  _ I’m _ not hot?” Dongmin asked. He looked amused with the situation, though one hand remained protectively on Bin’s thigh as they, too, sat down. 

“Not as hot as Jinnie is!” Myungjun nuzzled into Jinwoo’s side, and Jinwoo ducked his head to hide both his blush and his smile from Myungjun’s close friends.

As long as Bin said nothing else, he might be able to get through this.

**☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼**

Myungjun was better than he used to be. Though he had one hand, he could still pick up the bowling balls with ease and he still rolled them down the lane with a skill and expertise Jinwoo doubted anyone could ever recreate. He was constantly impressed by Myungjun’s ability to still do things normally, without any help, and he cheered each time Myungjun made any sort of point; most of the points were strikes and sometimes spares. It wasn’t often that he left any pins up in the alley when his turn was done. Jinwoo struggled alongside him, and Myungjun ended up carrying their team to victory in the first round.

As an award, Dongmin bought Jinwoo and Myungjun drinks, and he laughed as they clinked them together in celebration. 

“I wish I had taken the foresight earlier to switch teams,” Dongmin teased. He looked over at Bin, who was grabbing his ball for the new round, and he asked, “Binnie, mind if I switch places with Jinwoo?”

Before Bin could answer, Myungjun grabbed onto Jinwoo’s arm and said, “Oh, no. I won’t give Jinnie up that easily. He’s still better than  _ you _ are, Dongmin.”

“I’m not that bad.”

“You’re super uncoordinated,” Bin chimed in. “I think I’m second best, right?”

Myungjun pondered that question for a second before shaking his head, a big grin on his face. “Jinwoo’s second best!” he proclaimed.

Bin pouted. “I scored more points than he did!”

“Yes, but he’s so cute when he’s bowling! His eyes get all narrowed and he concentrates and he laughs whenever he misses! It’s really cute!”

“He looks ready to melt. Stop it before he turns into liquid,” Dongmin said.

Jinwoo  _ felt _ ready to melt. All of Myungjun’s compliments latched onto his heart with no hesitation, and he knew his face was completely and totally red. 

Bin, ball in hand, turned to Dongmin. “Am I cute when I bowl?” he asked, obviously awaiting a compliment.

“Of course you are, baby,” Dongmin cooed, and Bin grinned widely. 

Bin was a good bowler, probably the second-best of them as he had boasted, and after Myungjun and Jinwoo won the second round again, Dongmin claimed, “I’m with Myungjun this time. And no arguing, Jun. I refuse to be in last for the entire game.”

Myungjun glanced over between Bin and Jinwoo. He looked nervous and unsure, and he stammered out, “But...but it’s a-a couples thing, so—”

“One game, at least,” Dongmin told him, already clearing the names in the machine and re-entering them with the new team changes. 

Myungjun focused his gaze onto Jinwoo and asked, “Is that okay with you, Jin? And you can be honest.”

Jinwoo didn’t know how he felt about bowling on Bin’s team. He supposed they might be a good fit, but he also wanted to stay with what was familiar and comfortable to him. Myungjun was a ray of sunshine and leaving his side would be returning to the shadows.

But, at the same time, he felt that if he made an effort to befriend Bin, perhaps his effort would show. Perhaps Bin would end up liking him; at the very least, perhaps Bin wouldn’t  _ hate _ him.

So he slowly nodded his head and murmured, “I’m okay with it.”

Myungjun’s brows furrowed. “Are you sure?”

Jinwoo smiled, trying his best to convey the strength and determination he didn’t really feel. “I’m positive.” He kissed Myungjun’s cheek and added, “When you inevitably win, I’ll buy you and Dongmin drinks, okay?”

“Don’t buy  _ my _ boyfriend drinks,” Bin fussed. “Dongmin,  _ I’ll _ buy you drinks.”

Dongmin just laughed and wrapped an arm around Myungjun’s shoulder. “I don’t care who buys me drinks, since I’ll win regardless.”

And he did win, with Myungjun scoring the majority of the points for him. Neither Jinwoo’s mediocrity nor Bin’s average skills were a match for Myungjun’s expertise in the bowling alley. Myungjun, finishing off with his fourth strike in a row, smirked over at Bin and flaunted back to his seat. “I look forward to those drinks, Jinnie!” he teased.

Dongmin, grinning beside him, announced, “Me, too, to whoever buys me drinks the fastest!”

It was Bin who reached the bar first, and while he bought both drinks, he handed one over to Jinwoo. “Give that to Myungjun,” he murmured, ensuring the other two couldn’t see them switching out drinks. 

Jinwoo frowned. “I was going to buy my own.”

“Yeah, but I figured I might as well, since I was already up here.”

It would be pointless to argue; Bin had proven himself a stubborn man and Jinwoo wasn’t willing to get caught up in more conflict. He grabbed the drink, intent on taking it back to Myungjun, but then Bin stopped him by saying, “I’m sorry about your mom.”

Jinwoo looked over at Bin curiously. Bin wasn’t looking back. “And...and for what you had to endure,” he continued. “I really am sorry for you.”

Jinwoo cleared his throat. He held the beer closer to himself. “It’s fine,” he murmured. “I mean, it happened. It’s in the past. I should’ve...I should’ve been better—”

“You were just a kid.”

Hearing Bin make excuses for him was astonishing. Jinwoo didn’t know what to say, and so he kept quiet.

“You weren’t a kid when you were hurting Jun, but I don’t think...I don’t think you had matured well enough. And maybe you have now. I don’t know.” Bin gave a loud sigh. He glanced back to Dongmin and Myungjun, who had started a new game without them. “Dongmin was a jerk when we met. He was a bully and he enjoyed hurting others. He was  _ very _ manipulative. He’d dated a few girls before I met him and he broke up with them in messy ways. He used stuff against them, too; like, one girl was insecure about her bad acne, and Dongmin made a point in commenting on it often.”

Hearing that Dongmin used to be so horrible was surprising to Jinwoo. Myungjun had mentioned twice before that people didn’t like Dongmin, but he had thought it would be something rather mundane. He glanced back at Dongmin, who was losing rather handedly to Myungjun and laughing all the while. He didn’t seem like someone who would manipulate people.

“We shared a class together,” Bin continued. “And we sat next to each other, so I saw first-hand how two-faced he was. When he started digging into my soul and trying to spread rumors, I shut him down really quickly. I think he was shocked that I was willing to play his own game against him. After that, he just...he loosened up a bit. I was able to crack through his stupid facade, and he was actually sweet and insecure.” Bin took a small sip of Dongmin’s beer. “That’s how most bullies are, right? They make others’ lives miserable because their own life is miserable.”

Jinwoo guessed that was true. He was an example of that, and apparently Dongmin was, as well.

Bin continued, “Anyway, I started falling in love with him, and all my friends thought I was stupid for wanting to ask him out. Myungjun was the only one who encouraged me to go for it. He said he had a great judge of character, and he saw the change I had instilled in Dongmin. He...he supported us when no one else did, and Dongmin’s different now.” He fell silent and stared down at the beer.

Jinwoo was the one who broke that silence. “You and Dongmin are cute together.”

“Ha.” Bin snorted. “Are you trying to butter me up?”

“Only if it works.”

Bin laughed again, then pushed himself off of the counter and held the beer in his hands. “Come on. Better get back before Dongmin embarrasses himself with his score.”

The sudden conversation change was confusing, and Jinwoo said, “Wait, does...does this mean you’re going to accept me?”

“I think so, yeah.” Bin nodded his head and smiled at Jinwoo. “Myungjun has a good judge of character, like I said, and he’s probably right about you. If you  _ do _ hurt him, though, I’ll kill you this time.”

Jinwoo accepted that threat graciously, and followed Bin back to the bowling lane, unable to wipe the stupid grin off of his own face.

When Myungjun noticed the smile, he said nothing, but his own eyes lit up brighter than the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can catch yo with ya girl seal on her twitter [@thevonseal](https://www.twitter.com/thevonseal). there is where i shall post spoilers, schedules, and general nonsense.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cute babies :) enjoy the myungjin fluff before the holidays!

The sky that day was dreary and gray. Jinwoo, large rain jacket over his body and hood blocking his peripheral vision, tugged at the fishing nets with a loud sigh. Rain pelted down from above, making the process slippery and miserable, and Jinwoo asked, not for the first time, “Why don’t we just give up for the day and go home?”

A few men voiced their approval of that idea, but Donghee said, “It isn’t that bad. Let’s just finish up here, alright?”

Their paychecks would be smaller if they didn’t get  _ some _ fish, and a rainy day like this never really seemed to have any impact on the amount of fish they caught. Jinwoo knew they ought to keep going, but it was difficult to convince himself to work hard. He kept thinking of Myungjun, likely buried away in the kitchen of  _ Sunshine _ , looking over that one recipe he had been developing for a few months. Jiwoo would likely be helping him out, arguing with him all the while, and Myungjun would respond in that sweet, good-natured voice he always used around his employee.

Jinwoo longed to be there with them. He could steal kisses from Myungjun whenever Jiwoo’s back was turned and being in Myungjun’s sunny presence would be infinitely better than where he was right now.

With another harsh pull, Jinwoo got the net halfway up the boat, and he asked, “This one feels heavy. Maybe it’s all the fish we need.”

“Hopefully.” Donghee peered over the side of the boat. “Woosung, help him pull it up.”

“I’ve got it,” Jinwoo grunted. “Keep an eye on the other net.” Woosung had come up when his name was called, but upon Jinwoo’s order, he nodded and retreated to the far side of the boat to make sure that net wouldn’t get too full.

Donghee stared at Jinwoo, a little cautious. “That looks heavy.”

“It’s fine.” Using all his strength would exhaust him enough that perhaps he wouldn’t think so much about Myungjun.

Except he  _ did _ . He wondered if he could be coddled by Myungjun. Myungjun would make him some coffee to warm him up and hand over a towel to dry him off. It would be so cozy, nestled in Myungjun’s arms, and Jinwoo wouldn’t hesitate to kiss Myungjun’s neck.

And to run a hand up his shirt.

And to take him to bed.

The net, already slick with rain water, slipped in his hands, and Jinwoo scrambled forward to catch it and ensure it didn’t go overboard. Donghee called out his name in warning, concern dripping from his voice, but Jinwoo caught the rope just in time. His arm slammed up against the side of the ship, and then he felt something catch in his skin.

He panicked without thinking it through, and he jerked backwards. It wasn’t until Donghee ran up to help him that Jinwoo realized there was a jagged piece of metal, likely worn down from the nets rubbing up against the edge of the boat, that was now covered in blood. Jinwoo cursed as he and Donghee finished pulling the netting up the rest of the way. Fish flopped at their feet, but Jinwoo dropped everything in order to examine his arm.

He was bleeding. The metal had ripped apart his jacket and tore through skin, and now blood was dripping down beside the fish. It must’ve been bad for that much blood, and Jinwoo grasped onto the affected area, though he hissed in pain right afterwards.

Donghee hurried toward him, likely spurred from the sight of blood. Rain trailed the blood down the length of Jinwoo’s arm, ruining his jacket in the process.

“Oh, gosh, Jinwoo, are you alright?” Donghee asked, trying to tug Jinwoo’s hand away from the wound.

“I’m fine,” Jinwoo lied, hissing between his teeth. “It’s not that bad.”

“It’s  _ horrible! _ That’s a lot of blood. Here, let me see.”

Jinwoo shook his head. If Donghee were to look, then he would see all of the tattoos, and while the crew was well-aware of Jinwoo’s tattoos, he still hated the thought of them  _ looking _ at his skin. He was etched with the horrors of his past, unable to escape from all of his mistakes. His body was a canvas and a picture of his character had been painted. He wanted to distance himself as far as possible from the markings on his body, and to do that, he wanted no one to ever look at the tattoos.

“I’ll go take care of it,” he assured Donghee, offering him a small smile. “Seriously, it isn’t that bad. I was being an idiot. I should’ve accepted an offer for help.” He also shouldn’t have been thinking such raunchy thoughts about Myungjun. Perhaps it was a punishment from the heavens. He accepted the punishment. “Is the first-aid kit still below deck?” he asked, trying to hide his arm from the other men that were gathering around.

“It is,” Donghee confirmed, nodding his head. He still looked unsure, and he asked, “Do you really want to do it on your own?” With his voice lowered, he continued, “I know about your tattoos, and I won’t look at—”

“I’ve got it,” Jinwoo told him, keeping the smile plastered on his face. “I’m weird about it, I’m sorry, but I’ve just, uh, been—”

Donghee didn’t listen. Donghee just gestured for the other men to get back to work and then he said, “I understand. Let me know if you  _ do _ need help, though, alright?”

Jinwoo released the breath he had been holding. Donghee was kind. Donghee truly did seem to understand the reluctance Jinwoo always felt to have others gaze upon his tattooed body. It was a source of embarrassment and humiliation, and the less others saw of it, the better.

He made his way below deck, where the rain couldn’t reach and the yelling of the man above him seemed so muffled and far away. The first-aid kit was in plain sight, ready to be used at a moment’s notice. It was used quite often, for fishermen got hurt quite often. They were a rowdy bunch, and they worked with hooks and knives on a daily basis.

Jinwoo sat at the table nearby and opened the kit before turning his attention to the wound. When he rolled up the sleeve, he could see just how messy it was, and he thanked the heavens he had gained intelligence in his later years and got all of his shots so he wouldn’t have any infections. Still, he cleaned it as best he could with the supplies he had on hand, and then he wrapped the cut in gauze, making it as thick as his shirt would allow. 

He hardly gave his tattoos a glance. He didn’t want to look at them for longer than necessary, and so he just pretended they didn’t exist, as he always did.

They didn’t stay out at sea much longer. Donghee continued to worry over him, and the rain was getting worse as the day dragged on. So they turned the ship back toward shore around noon, and an hour later, the fish was loaded away and Jinwoo was scurrying off, apologizing once more to his coworkers and promising he would see them the next day. 

Boarding the bus to  _ Sunshine _ came with a sense of relief. He was out of the rain and he would soon be consumed with warmth. He took off his big rain jacket, maneuvering uncomfortably in the bus seats to do so, and thankful that no one nearby was around that would be splattered with the water droplets that cascaded off of the fabric. He surveyed the damage caused by the metal piece and decided he would have to buy a new one. He  _ could _ patch it up, but it would be noticeable, and likely very ugly. Besides that, he couldn’t sew. His mother could, but she had been dead for years, and Jinwoo knew of no one else who had that particular skill.

Maybe Myungjun could fix it. 

But then Jinwoo thought of Myungjun’s arm, the hand from it obviously gone, and he winced before moving the jacket aside. It would be insensitive of him to ask Myungjun for help. He would simply buy a new one. He had plenty of money to do so.

He glanced down at his shirt next, at the sleeve which had been torn. He was fortunate that the wound was covered in bandages, so the rip in his shirt only revealed the white gauze. 

Well, the white gauze and the blood that was seeping through.

“Dammit,” Jinwoo cussed quietly to himself. Hadn’t he wrapped it tight enough? Hadn’t he ensured nothing touch his arm to cause it any issues? He could ask Myungjun for more bandages, but Myungjun, knowing him, would offer to fix it himself. Would Jinwoo be strong enough to say no to the love of his life?

He didn’t know, and he didn’t want to know, and so he put his wet jacket back on and attempted to move the sleeve properly in an effort to cover the wound. He would just have to hope the bleeding wore off before Myungjun took notice.

But the bleeding didn’t let up. By the time the bus stopped at  _ Sunshine _ and Jinwoo hopped off, he had a hand pressed firmly on the wound, wondering how he was expected to hide something so noticeable. Maybe he could say a quick hello to Myungjun and then be on his merry way, so his boyfriend would be none the wiser.

That would mean, though, leaving Myungjun, a feat that had become near impossible.

Jinwoo chewed on his lip as he entered the restaurant, struggling to devise some way to hide the noticeable wound, but then Jiwoo, serving a couple nearby, called out, “Hey, Jinwoo!”

Jinwoo smiled to her, but he didn’t wave, fearful that his good hand now had contracted some of the blood from the wound he was attempting to keep covered. 

She finished giving her table food and then hurried over to Jinwoo’s side, her eyes drawn to the way Jinwoo held his arm. “What’s up?” she asked. “Are you hurt?”

It would be pointless to lie. Besides, Jinwoo had become sick of lying. He refused to do it anymore, and so he slowly nodded his head. “Yeah. Small accident on the boat. Nothing big, though. I think I just need to change the bandages again.”

He didn’t remove his hand so she could see, but she didn’t seem to mind. “There’s a first-aid kit in Myungjun’s office, if you wanted to use that.”

He couldn’t get to the office without being caught, however. The kitchen was the only route to the office, and from the looks of it, Myungjun was busy cooking. 

He hesitated for a second, then asked, “Do you think you could bring that out and I can fix it in the bathroom?”

Jiwoo snorted. “He’d ask me what it was for either way. Why? Do you not want Myungjun to baby you? Because he would. He loves to baby you.”

It was true, and it was definitely what Jinwoo was looking to avoid. “I don’t want that today,” he murmured. “Because he might panic more than—”

“Jinwoo!” Myungjun’s voice suddenly called out. Jinwoo looked over; so did several other customers in the store. Myungjun, rushing out of the kitchen, didn’t seem to care. The grin on his face was bright, and he passed over a bowl of ramen to Jiwoo. “Table five.”

“Why don’t you serve them?” Jiwoo asked in a grumble.

“Because I’m the boss and I get the final say-so and my current say-so is that I want to visit with Jinnie.”

Jiwoo sighed loudly but eventually snapped, “ _ Fine _ , I’ll do it.” Right before she turned around though, she had the nerve to add, “Jinwoo’s hurt.” Then she was gone, and Jinwoo could only stare after her in disbelief.

Myungjun’s voice took on a note of panic. “You’re hurt?” he asked.

“That’ll teach me not to tell Jiwoo anything.”

“Seriously, are you hurt?”

Jinwoo tightened his lips and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s nothing. Just scraped my arm this morning on the boat. It was rainy and my hands slipped and something caught onto my skin.”

“Is that why you’re holding your arm?” Myungjun questioned him. Jinwoo didn’t get a chance to respond, though, for Myungjun was already tugging him back to the kitchen. “Let me look at it, okay?”

“You really don’t have to,” Jinwoo protested, trying his best to pull away. “It’s not that bad.”

“Why are you holding it, then?”

Jinwoo didn’t have a good answer for him.  _ It’s still bleeding, that’s all _ was a surefire way to stress out his sweet boyfriend even more.  _ I don’t want you to look at it _ would do absolutely nothing. Myungjun was determined to clean it and look it over, and Jinwoo was powerless to stop him.

Well, he could beg, and so the moment they stepped into the office, Jinwoo said, “Jun, I really think I’m fine. Seriously. Honestly. Please don’t—”

“Roll up your sleeve.” Myungjun sat him in his office chair and grabbed the first-aid kit from his clean and pristine shelf. Everything in Myungjun’s office was clean and pristine. He really ensured his restaurant was nothing but the best, and that extended to his office. It was amazing, really, for many restaurant offices were trashed and filled with thousands of old files. Myungjun’s was the exact opposite; his files, he liked to boast, were all on his computer, backed up several times, but never printed out. 

Normally, Jinwoo would admire Myungjun’s office, or else comment on whatever new things were lining the bookshelves (several small clay ducks, which he had made during one of their dates at a pottery shop), but he was focused solely on keeping his sleeve down to cover his tattoos.

Myungjun had his kit opened and he awaited Jinwoo’s reveal of the wound. He glanced down pointedly at Jinwoo’s arm and asked, “Can I see it?”

“I would rather you not.”

With a huff, Myungjun said, “You’ve got blood on the desk, Jinnie, see? Obviously it’s bad enough that the bandage should be changed, and I at least want to make sure you won’t need stitches from it.”

“I don’t need stitches.”

“Sleeve. Up.” Myungjun glared at him, quite angry, and Jinwoo faltered under such a piercing stare. What was he supposed to do? He didn’t want Myungjun, of all people, looking at his tattoos. He couldn’t handle any reminders as to what he had done to poor Myungjun.

He fiddled with his sleeve, his mouth dry as he stared down at the table, smeared lightly with his own blood.

“I’ve seen your tattoos before,” Myungjun suddenly commented. “I  _ know _ what they look like. They aren’t something you have to hide from me.”

Jinwoo nodded his head, but murmured, “They remind me of my past.”

“I don’t think you need tattoos for that.” Myungjun pulled up the only other chair in his office and sat down beside Jinwoo. “You remember it regardless. The tattoos don’t help, not really.” He was quiet for a second before rolling up his own sleeve, showcasing his stump arm. “I wear long sleeves a lot because I’m scared of what people will think, too. I’m scared they’ll look at my arm and think I’m crippled or disabled, despite watching me run this entire restaurant. People  _ do _ look at you different with physical abnormalities.” He leaned forward and planted a kiss against Jinwoo’s cheek. “I won’t look at you differently, though. Not me; not ever. You are, as you’ve always been, my sweet Jinnie, and if I had to relive my past over again, I wouldn’t change a thing.” He hesitated for a second before adding, “Well, I’d probably bar the door next time, but that’s hindsight.”

“But I would change a lot of things,” Jinwoo responded. “Stuff I’m ashamed of. Stuff I made mistakes on.”

“I’d change your life, too, if I could.”

“You  _ did _ change my life.”

Myungjun scoffed and kissed Jinwoo again. “I did nothing. You did it all on your own. And those tattoos mean nothing anymore, because you’ve escaped that life.”

When Jinwoo still kept his sleeve down, Myungjun commented, “I’ll see the tattoos again when we have sex, unless you plan to keep your shirt on.”

He felt his face turn red, and he stammered out, “Myu-Myungjun!”

“What? We  _ will _ have sex, won’t we?”

Jinwoo glanced toward the office door, praying Jiwoo wasn’t listening in. “Not...not here.”

“Of course not here.  _ Yet _ . One day, though…” Myungjun laughed at the expression Jinwoo gave him and kissed him again. “I’m joking! Let me see your arm now before I make myself embarrassed with all this talk on sex.”

This time, Jinwoo relented. He rolled up the sleeve of his shirt, displaying all of those horrendous tattoos. Myungjun didn’t stare at them. He looked only at the wound on Jinwoo’s arm, commenting on how icky it was, but saying, “It’s not that deep. Looks like you just bumped it again. Why is your arm bruised, though?”

“I...I slammed into the boat when the netting slipped from my hands. That’s when I got cut, too.”

“You need to be more careful.” Myungjun began to gently wipe away at the blood around the wound. “I’ll put some cream on it so you can heal faster, alright? I don’t assume you did that, did you?”

“No,” Jinwoo responded.

Myungjun shook his head in disappointment as he worked. Silence fell, and Jinwoo watched Myungjun with a smile on his face.

Myungjun was perfect. Myungjun was absolutely perfect. Jinwoo had never met anyone as perfect as he was.

“Remember when we met that second time?” he asked suddenly. Myungjun looked up at him, curious, and Jinwoo continued, “My arm was bleeding then, too.”

Recognition shone in Myungjun’s eyes. “I do remember! God, I was so worried about you! It was a lot of blood.”

Jinwoo nodded his head. He kissed Myungjun, surprising his boyfriend, and then whispered, “I’d change so much about my past, but I’d never change meeting my Sunshine.”

The grin that stretched across Myungjun’s face was nothing short of glorious, and Myungjun ignored the wound for a few seconds to return that kiss, breathless and exuberant. 

Jinwoo’s past was unsavory, but at least his future was brighter than ever before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can catch yo with ya girl seal on her twitter [@thevonseal](https://www.twitter.com/thevonseal). there is where i shall post spoilers, schedules, and general nonsense.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter does have some sexual situations, but nothing above a T-rating. enjoy!

He was a crab, he thought, staring down at the creature with interest. He was prickly sometimes, tough sometimes, but underneath his hard shell was a soft interior. Soft and squishy. Soft and  _ vulnerable _ . He was threatened by the light because he believed that the light held unforeseen dangers. He was threatened by piercing light, especially, for dangers often lurked behind it.

Yet no dangers lurked behind the sunny demeanor of Myungjun.

Jinwoo had thought through everything, every bad thing that could happen, and he had deduced that Myungjun was safe. Myungjun wouldn’t allow bad things to befall him. Myungjun was calm and patient and took his time with their relationship.

Myungjun had forgiven him for all that had happened.

Jinwoo took a deep breath and bent down to the crab’s level. It moved out of his way, but it didn’t dart just yet.

Through all their talks, Myungjun had admitted he had initially put some blame on Jinwoo, thanks in part to Bin’s urging. He had taken that blame away as fast as he had put it on, but the blame had still been Jinwoo’s, if even for a bit. So he had forgiven Jinwoo for their previous relationship, for the times Jinwoo had lied and for the times Jinwoo had ignored Myungjun’s feelings.

A burden had been lifted from Jinwoo’s shoulders. He no longer felt like the villain. His past was behind him, and he was certain he could make a wonderful future by Myungjun’s side. He would treat his boyfriend well. He would never stray to the dark again.

He reached a hand out for the crab, but the crab darted and burrowed into the sand, once more covering itself with darkness.

Jinwoo smiled. He  _ wasn’t _ a crab. He shared many similarities, but he preferred to remain within the sunlight. He wanted to stay with his Sunshine and reap the benefits that the light had to offer him.

And there were many benefits.

“Jinwoo!” Myungjun yelled, snapping him out of his thoughts. Jinwoo glanced over his shoulder to see Myungjun running at him, bare feet kicking up sand, a wide grin on his face as he waved something in the air.

Jinwoo stood up. “What’s that?” he asked.

Myungjun skidded to a halt before him and eagerly displayed his latest finding. “A conch shell!” he exclaimed, holding it out for Jinwoo to examine. “And it’s mostly intact.”

It definitely was. The shell was a beautiful creamy color, with little swirls of light orange thrown in there, and Jinwoo admired it. “That’s one of the best you’ve found!” he exclaimed. He gently grabbed it and held it up to Myungjun’s ear. “Do you hear the ocean?” he asked, grinning widely.

Myungjun laughed. “Yup! Though I’m not sure if it’s from the shell or from the fact that we’re standing right on the shore.”

“Maybe both.” Jinwoo put the shell in the bag he held, alongside other shells he and Myungjun had collected together. “I haven’t found much since we split. A broken cone shell, and this crab.” Jinwoo gestured at the ground before him. “He’s hiding.”

Myungjun noticed the lump in the sand and he knelt down, poking it. The crab buried itself more, and Myungjun cooed. “He’s scared. Poor guy. I’ll leave him alone for now.” He straightened back up, then hooked arms with Jinwoo and kissed his boyfriend’s cheek. “Let’s walk that way. We haven’t been down there yet.”

“The sun’s setting,” Jinwoo pointed out. “Doesn’t your beach have a curfew?”

“I’ve broken it before and I’ll break it again.”

“You’re a troublemaker.”

Myungjun laughed, the sound bright and joyful, and together they meandered across the shore, stopping on occasion to pick up seashells. They watched the sunset together, too, the colors of the sky blending into bright oranges and reds and pinks. It was beautiful, and in the midst of it all, Jinwoo kissed Myungjun’s forehead, admiring how Myungjun shone with the bright colors sparkling behind him.

“The sun sets and my Sun still remains,” he murmured.

Myungjun snorted, the tips of his ears a little pink. “Sprouting poetry?” 

“Just for you.”

“I think I like it. You ought to write poems, or music. I’d buy a thousand of your songs.” Myungjun untangled his arm from Jinwoo’s in order to pick up a small crab scurrying away from their feet. He held it to Jinwoo’s cheek and demanded, “Make the crab face.”

Jinwoo’s impressions always managed to elicit a laugh from Myungjun, and this time was no exception. Jinwoo’s crab-face was the same as his squid-face, which was similar to his sloth-face, and yet Myungjun laughed each and every time. 

The crab struggled in Myungjun’s fingers, and so Myungjun let it go again, watching it run off to the sand dunes. He chuckled still, eyes alight with mirth, and so Jinwoo kissed him again.

“Let’s go,” Jinwoo said, tugging on Myungjun’s arm. “We’ve got a lot of seashells to go through, and I need to make us dinner.”

“Are you sure you don’t want  _ me _ to cook?” Myungjun asked, looking only a little bit affronted as Jinwoo pulled him back to civilization. “Not to brag or anything, but I’ve been known to dabble a bit in cooking.”

“You’ve been known to dabble  _ a bit? _ ” Jinwoo teased. “Just a  _ bit? _ You don’t own a restaurant or anything?”

Myungjun scoffed. “The day I own my own restaurant is the day you need to make out with me.”

“I guess I have no choice, then.” Jinwoo wrapped his free hand around Myungjun’s waist and pinched it briefly before muttering, “This is because you own  _ Sunshine _ .” Then he kissed Myungjun, passionate and sweet, mouth moving lazily against Myungjun’s lips. He could feel his boyfriend’s smile within the kiss, and somehow it made the kiss taste all the more delightful.

When they pulled back, Myungjun’s cheeks were flushed, and Jinwoo kissed each cheek before smirking. “Did that suffice?”

“Well…” Myungjun trailed off, and Jinwoo nudged him lightly as they began to walk again.

“Don’t be greedy!” Jinwoo scolded. “Besides, there’s much more where that came from!”

“I eagerly await.”

Myungjun’s grin was even bigger as they walked home, and he had an extra skip in his step.

They stopped along the way to pick up their shoes. Jinwoo’s held Myungjun’s for him with no hesitation. He had grown used to seeing Myungjun without his hand, and he knew that, while Myungjun claimed to have no difficulties in common, everyday tasks, he still fumbled and made mistakes from time to time. Currently, Myungjun’s good hand was occupied, attached to Jinwoo’s hand, and so unless he cradled the shoes into his chest, he wouldn’t be in a position to hold them.

Myungjun made no effort to fight back on Jinwoo’s executive decision. Instead, he looked a little relieved, and he leaned into Jinwoo more as they crossed the street to Myungjun’s apartment.

Once inside, Jinwoo was quick to grab ingredients from Myungjun’s pantry, muttering out loud what he needed for homemade ramen, while Myungjun spread their seashells out on the nearby table to examine them closer. He spoke up every so often to inform Jinwoo of wrong ingredients: “Babe, that’s allspice, don’t use that. Oh my god, that’s  _ way _ too many red pepper flakes! Did you just pour  _ that much _ hoisin sauce into the mixture?” All the while, he sorted the seashells diligently, as if he multitasked countless times.

He probably did, Jinwoo thought, for Myungjun ran a restaurant with only one other employee. It must be difficult to focus on everything at once; he had to cook and clean and take orders and deliver orders and stock and look over the finances without missing a beat. Multitasking was essential to such a career.

“You’re amazing,” Jinwoo blurted out as he cooked the noodles over the stovetop.

Myungjun snorted. “What brought that on?”

“Super amazing.”

“Stop.”

“ _ So amazing! _ ” Jinwoo finished in a sing-song voice, plopping a few vegetables in with his broth. 

“I’ll throw a shell at you if you don’t shut up.”

Jinwoo turned his head to see Myungjun gripping his conch shell threateningly, though his face was filled with amusement. Jinwoo, holding onto some green onions, smiled back and said nothing.

Until Myungjun put down the shell.

“Amazing,” Jinwoo whispered.

Myungjun slammed his fist into the table, rattling the shells, and exclaimed, “For gods’ sake!” But right after his outburst, he laughed anyway, loudly and happily, then began to push the shells away so he could set the table. “I swear, Jinnie, it’s difficult to keep you around when you just live to get on my nerves.”

“You never seem to have any issue inviting me over,” Jinwoo pointed out. He dumped the ramen into the bowls, ensuring Myungjun’s had more broth than his own did. Myungjun liked to drink the broth, whereas Jinwoo preferred more noodles. They were given equal amounts of boiled pork, but then Jinwoo decided to place several more pieces on top of Myungjun’s bowl.

As they sat at the table, Myungjun certainly noticed. “What’s this?”

“For you, my dearest.”

Myungjun made a face. “You’re treading on thin ice, pal.”

“Why? Because I’m making sure my boyfriend is well-fed?”

“I can’t eat more than you! You need to eat more; you require more muscles for your job.”

Jinwoo scoffed and blocked his bowl as Myungjun tried to dump the pork in. “I have plenty muscles for my job.”

“Well, you need more muscles for me.”

Jinwoo furrowed his eyebrows while Myungjun grinned innocently at him, batting his pretty eyelashes. “Please, Jinnie,” he begged. “Eat more for me?”

“No.”

Myungjun rolled his eyes, but giggled as he popped a piece of pork into his mouth.

After a few bites, Jinwoo felt a little antsy being cooped up inside. He could see the ocean from the view of one of Myungjun’s large windows, and he asked, “Can we eat on your balcony? I haven’t done that yet.”

Myungjun glanced outside and nodded his head with very little hesitation. “Sure. Take the food out, and I’ll grab our drinks.”

So they set up their dinner on the large balcony that overlooked the beach. Myungjun sat slumped in his seat, legs stretched out and placed on top of Jinwoo’s lap. Jinwoo had to hold his bowl at an angle to avoid Myungjun’s feet, but he certainly didn’t mind the position.

They ate in silence for a few seconds, slurping at the noodles and crunching down on vegetables. Myungjun hummed after a bit and exclaimed, “This is really good, Jinnie.”

Jinwoo smiled at him before sipping on the can of beer Myungjun had brought out. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I should hire you as a chef. You could be the second chef.”

“I think I’d screw up.”

“Nah.” Myungjun repositioned his feet, pushing them against Jinwoo’s stomach. Jinwoo didn’t car in the slightest. In fact, it made him a little pleased that they were comfortable enough with each other to sit in such ways. He couldn’t stop from smiling, and he tried to hide it by shoveling more of the ramen into his mouth. “You didn’t screw up this dish.”

“It’s the easiest ramen to make. You make your own noodles; I just use store-bought stuff.”

Myungjun glanced at him but shrugged his shoulders. “I know. I just would like you with me at all times of the day.”

Jinwoo laughed. “We need a break from each other sometimes, Jun, or else you’ll end up driving me crazy.”

“Will I?” Myungjun tried to tickle Jinwoo’s stomach with his feet. “Is this making you crazy?”

“It sure is annoying.” Jinwoo continued to eat his food, trying not to giggle as Myungjun’s feet traveled further up Jinwoo’s chest. At this point, Myungjun’s meal was set aside as he struggled to reach Jinwoo with only his feet, and Jinwoo began to scoot his chair back.

“Stop!” Myungjun gasped out. “Wait!” But it was too late. Jinwoo’s chair was far enough back that Myungjun’s feet fell. Myungjun lost his balance after that, no longer propped up, and he slid from his chair, his backside smacking hard across the wooden flooring of the balcony.

Jinwoo laughed harder than he had in some time, even as Myungjun flung a few good-natured insults at him. “Sure, sure, laugh at my pain, you dummy. Just because  _ you _ don’t know how to have fun—”

“You’re such a dork!” Jinwoo exclaimed, tossing his head back as he replayed such a ridiculous image in his mind. “God, I love you!”

“I love you, too, even if you probably made my butt all bruised,” Myungjun grumbled, but he was still smiling, still laughing, and his anger was all for show.

They cleaned up after that, though Jinwoo found it difficult to stop from chuckling and Myungjun, washing the dishes and passing them over to Jinwoo to dry, kept bumping hips with him, fussing, “Stop laughing! I’m serious, I’ll tickle you if you don’t stop!”

But Myungjun didn’t follow through on his threat, simply because he never did follow through with threats, and so Jinwoo continued to grin at his boyfriend.

It was growing late, however, and their time together was running short. Jinwoo tried to lengthen their time together as much as he could, pouring them both a glass of wine he had bought and helping Myungjun to water his plants. Soft music played from Myungjun’s Bluetooth speaker, adding a slight ambience to the air that they never had before.

He was watering a large fern when Myungjun suddenly murmured, “Don’t leave, Jinnie.”

Jinwoo glanced over at him and blinked. “Huh?”

Myungjun wasn’t looking his way. Myungjun kept his eyes trained on the pretty flower he was inspecting. It was almost as if he never said anything, and he kept quiet for a bit more before he added, “I don’t want you to go tonight.”

Usually when they spent a late night together, Jinwoo would take a cab home. He hated to impose, and he hated whatever implications might come from his stay. This was uncommon, then, Myungjun begging him not to leave.

Jinwoo set his watering can aside and asked, “Why not?”

Myungjun took a deep breath, then another one, and he finally faced Jinwoo. There was a longing in his gaze that Jinwoo had not seen in sometime, not since they had first dated years and years ago. It took Jinwoo’s breath away, and he understood then why Myungjun didn’t want for him to go.

They had confessed their love for each other. They had been on at least eight dates. Weeks had passed. Surely it would be okay, then to fall into the whims of desire?

Myungjun seemed to think so, and he stepped forward with a faltering confidence. “I want…” he whispered.

But he trailed off, and Jinwoo shook his head, effectively stopping Myungjun in his tracks. “Sunshine,” he replied, the usual nickname causing an air of relief to befall the two men. “I need you to say it. It won’t be like it was before, okay? I treated you...I treated you terribly before.”

“You didn’t.”

Jinwoo closed his eyes. “Can you honestly say that each time we had sex was because  _ you _ wanted sex?”

Myungjun’s silence was like a knife to the chest. The knife buried into his heart and it twisted and tugged and Jinwoo longed to run away. But he knew he couldn’t escape the past; he had to face it and apologize for it, and that was what he intended to do now.

“I never should’ve treated you like that,” he whispered. “God, Jun, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for being a horrible boyfriend and for—”

He was quieted by a pair of lips against his own, and his eyes flew open in shock. Myungjun reached for him, held him close, and kissed him hard.

Jinwoo was the first to pull away, breathing deeply, and Myungjun looked at him with such wide eyes, filled with certainty and  _ want _ . 

“We’re going to change that now,” Myungjun told him. “Jinwoo, I want sex. Please...please stay the night? Please spend it with me?”

Jinwoo ran a hand across Myungjun’s cheek, feeling the soft skin. His fingers trailed down Myungjun’s neck, and he asked, “Are you sure?”

Myungjun nodded his head with confidence. “Positive,” he replied. “I bought...I bought condoms. And lubricant. I’m...I’m positive I want this, Jinwoo. Please.”

The  _ please _ did Jinwoo in, and he kissed Myungjun’s forehead. “Alright,” he murmured in agreement. His heart pounded in his chest as Myungjun led him to the bedroom. He hadn’t seen Myungjun in a sensual light in years. He hadn’t seen Myungjun sexually in what felt like an eternity. And now here they were, tucked away in Myungjun’s dim bedroom, kissing and touching and feeling.

Myungjun was quick to tug at Jinwoo’s shirt in an effort to pull it off, and Jinwoo only hesitated briefly before allowing Myungjun to shed the material off of him.

The tattoos were visible, even in the semi-darkness, and Myungjun looked over Jinwoo’s chest, recognition lighting in his eyes with the familiarity of the body before him. He ran his fingers across scars, across raunchy tattoos, before finally stopping at the daffodil.

“Jinwoo,” he breathed, voice catching in his throat. He hand hovered over the small sun that had been added years ago as Jinwoo’s favorite and final tattoo. “Jinwoo, is…?”

Jinwoo kissed Myungjun’s head as his boyfriend stared down at the sunshine. “I needed one of you,” he teased, and Myungjun looked up at him. “To always remember my Sunshine.”

Myungjun smiled, though it was shaky and watery and threatening to disappear within a moment. Jinwoo was quick to kiss him again, and Myungjun moaned into the kiss, “I love you.”

“I know,” Jinwoo replied.

Myungjun scoffed and drew back from the kiss briefly, though he took his shirt off as he talked. “You’re supposed to say,  _ I love you, too _ .”

“But you already know that,” Jinwoo pointed out, and he felt close to crying as Myungjun returned to his arms. He had the love of his life in his embrace, and it felt so sweet. He had Myungjun with him again in such an intimate manner, better than all of the other times before, and his happiness was too overwhelming to control.

Their sex was beautiful. It was perfect. Jinwoo felt high on such love, and when he and Myungjun were finally still, he was able to cry.

“What’s wrong?” Myungjun asked him, sweaty and breathless and wiping away the tears as they rolled across Jinwoo’s cheeks.

“I never...I never thought I’d get this again,” Jinwoo answered him. “I never thought we’d...see each other ever again.”

Myungjun smiled. His own eyes were watery, but he didn’t cry yet. He just leaned close and kissed Jinwoo’s nose before rolling over on top of Jinwoo’s chest. “But we are,” he said. “We’re here and we get to see each other and we can see each other everyday, if you want, and you can have sex with me everyday, if you want.”

Jinwoo laughed through his tears and wrapped his arms around Myungjun. He could feel Myungjun’s only hand gripping onto his shoulder and he murmured, “All I want is to be by your side.”

“Wish granted,” Myungjun told him, trailing kisses down Jinwoo’s neck. He continued further down, until he got to the sun and the daffodil tattoos. There, he placed special attention, lips lingering by the ink, and he added, “After all, we’re immortalized here forever. That means we can never part.”

It was true.

A daffodil could live forever as long as it had Sunshine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can catch yo with ya girl seal on her twitter [@thevonseal](https://www.twitter.com/thevonseal). there is where i shall post spoilers, schedules, and general nonsense.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can i put in a warning for lots and lots of fluff?

“Wake up,” Jinwoo murmured, shaking Myungjun’s shoulder.

Myungjun mumbled something sleepily and buried his face further into the large, fluffy pillow. Jinwoo smiled at his boyfriend, though he knew he ought to be more urgent in his efforts. Still, it wasn’t as if they received days like this often, days where they had no threat of work and were allowed to take the time off and indulge in each others’ company.

So Jinwoo decided to give Myungjun a few extra minutes. He rubbed Myungjun’s bare shoulder, then pressed a few kisses across the expanse of skin that remained above the sheets. Myungjun was tan with clear, soft skin, and Jinwoo’s lips lingered with each kiss he gave.

He rubbed at the nape of Myungjun’s neck with one of his own hands, and he examined the differences in their skin. His own arm would be pale, if not for the coverage of tattoos and scars. For years he had hid such disgusting marks from the world and from himself. He dressed quickly and hardly went without a shirt. But now he felt more comfortable. While regret lingered, he realized that he couldn’t change the past. He was stuck with his tattoos.

They were a reminder, though, of the wonderful future that was just within his grasp. They were a testament to his struggles throughout life that got him to this position, and they were a story of the person he used to be. He had tossed that person aside, content instead on becoming a better version of Park Jinwoo. 

He knew he could do it with Myungjun’s help.

He trailed his kisses down Myungjun’s side, pulling the covers back in order to reach the hidden skin. Myungjun shifted, then giggled, but Jinwoo didn’t stop in his affection. He kissed each of Myungjun’s ribs, and then kissed them all a second time.

Finally, Myungjun woke, and wrapped his arms around Jinwoo’s head, keeping him in place. “I’m up,” he muttered, eyes closed. 

Jinwoo kissed more and more, abusing the same spot with sweet adoration, and when Myungjun released him, he shimmied back up the bed and smiled widely.

“Morning,” he greeted, smoothing back Myungjun’s pretty, black hair. “How are you feeling today, Sunshine?”

Myungjun yawned and cuddled into Jinwoo’s chest, his breath fanning over Jinwoo and his head resting comfortably on top of the tattooed daffodil and sunshine. “Wonderful,” he replied.

It was always  _ wonderful _ . Ever since Jinwoo started spending each night in Myungjun’s embrace, Myungjun made it clear that the mornings had become wonderful.

“Are you ready to go down to the docks?” Jinwoo asked him, closing his eyes and indulging himself in the moment. He continued to comb his fingers through Myungjun’s hair, and he felt his boyfriend’s body rising up and down with Jinwoo’s own breathing. It was rhythmic. It was soothing. 

Myungjun made a noise, which could have either been a  _ yes _ or a  _ no _ , but Jinwoo interpreted it as a  _ yes _ . He grunted as he sat up, holding Myungjun in his arms, and then said, “Let’s get ready.”

Myungjun moaned out in defiance, nuzzling his nose into the crook of Jinwoo’s neck. “It’s chilly,” he complained.

“It’s fall. Of course it’s chilly.” Jinwoo kept his arms wrapped around Myungjun, holding him close. He could feel goosebumps on Myungjun’s skin, and so he rubbed up and down Myungjun’s back in an attempt to get rid of any shivers. “You might need to turn the heat on soon.”

Myungjun nodded his head in agreement. Jinwoo kissed Myungjun’s shoulder, then began to trail those kisses down, too. He had to lift Myungjun’s arm in an effort to reach more skin, but even then he was only able to get down to Myungjun’s elbow without straining himself. He rubbed a hand down the rest of Myungjun’s arm, stopping just short of where the wrist ended.

Sometimes, he would still feel a twinge of guilt. Sometimes, he would remember how terrible of a sight it had been to come home and see Myungjun pinned into his bedroom wall. The blood stains had remained; Jinwoo couldn’t bring himself to clean them out, and so when he disappeared, he left them where they were. It had been the landlord’s problem after that.

Jinwoo frowned. No, it was always  _ his _ problem. The reason for everything had been his own mistakes. It was his fault Myungjun’s hand was gone.

As if sensing Jinwoo’s thoughts had taken a turn for the worst, Myungjun picked his head up and kissed Jinwoo’s cheek. “Is it going to be chilly outside?” he asked. It was a stupid question, one Myungjun likely knew, but it did bring Jinwoo out of his more negative thoughts. 

He blinked and looked at Myungjun before hurriedly nodding his head. ‘It’ll warm up while we’re at sea,” he replied, trying to forget his own guilt. “So dress in layers. Stuff you can take off.”

“Stuff I can take off?” Myungjun wiggled his eyebrows and Jinwoo soon understood the implications of his words.

“Oh, god, not like that.”

“Are you  _ sure _ it’s not like that?” Myungjun sat up a bit straighter, the sleep disappearing from his eyes. “I’ve never done it on a boat.”

“It’s not  _ my _ boat. We’re not doing it on Donghee’s boat.”

Myungjun smirked and planted another kiss onto Jinwoo’s lips. When he drew back, he whispered, “But we’ll do it on your boat?”

Jinwoo rolled his eyes. He was unable to scold Myungjun, however. How was one supposed to scold sunshine? “If I get a boat, sure. We’ll break it in.”

With a giggle, Myungjun nodded his head in agreement. “I’ll remember that. Trust me, Jinnie, I’m definitely not going to forget this.” 

“Of course you won’t.”

Myungjun laughed again, then wrangled himself out of the twisted covers. “Let’s get dressed,” he declared, arms crossing over his chest as if trying to hold all of the heat inside of him. “It’s super cold. Why is it so cold? We’re on an island in the south. This is stupid.”

He grumbled all the while as they put their clothes back on, a reaction Jinwoo found utterly endearing. Of course, there wasn’t much about Myungjun that he  _ didn’t _ find endearing. Myungjun could probably swear nonstop and Jinwoo would still find him precious.

They both dressed for the upcoming temperature, with light sweaters underneath a few piles of heavier outerwear. Myungjun made certain to add his favorite scarf, along with a beanie and those red mittens. He looked ready to brave the freezing Arctic, and Jinwoo shamelessly snapped a few pictures of him on his cell phone (which Myungjun posed for, grinning and making any cute face he could think of). 

The sun was just rising by the time they left Myungjun’s apartment. Pretty rays of orange and pink stretched out across the sky, trying their best to reach the sparkling ocean, which was still bathed in the stars and moon that hung onto their night terrace. 

Myungjun yawned as he hooked his arm around Jinwoo’s arm, and they leaned in together as they walked down to the bus stop.

“You know,” Jinwoo muttered, quite enjoying the feeling of Myungjun nuzzling into him. “I kept that Pikachu.”

“The one with the top hat?”

Pleased that Myungjun remembered such a detail, Jinwoo nodded his head. “Yeah! He’s so cute. I couldn’t get rid of him. I tried a few times.” He had stuffed Pikachu in the garbage, only to dig him out and clean him off later. He had walked down to the second-hand shop to release him to the public, only to turn back the moment he had arrived. He had left him outside for someone to take him, but he kept staring at the dumb plushie out of his window and finally snatched him up and kept him inside.

The Pikachu plushie was a reminder of Myungjun, and while Jinwoo had initially sought to forget, he found it impossible to truly forget. He didn’t  _ want _ to forget Myungjun. He never wanted to forget Myungjun.

He added, “He sleeps on my bed now. He’s back in his original position.”

Myungjun laughed lightly. “I want to come over and see,” he said. “Can I come after our date? I’ll spend the night.”

“Sure!” Jinwoo found it easy to agree to Myungjun, and he remembered how he was when Myungjun first asked to spend the night. That was when he lived in that awful apartment room, with the cigarette stains on the walls and ceiling and the unsavory behavior happening all around him. But now he had a house with a bedroom and a kitchen and a small dining area and a living room. Now he had somewhere he was proud to call home. It was clean, free from drugs and cigarettes and gang members who posed as friends. He and Myungjun could watch television together, or read together, or play some board games at the coffee table.

Jinwoo felt excited to be sharing more of his life with Myungjun, and he exclaimed, “I’ll make you a dinner out of whatever fish we catch.”

“Ooh, I get to eat more of Jinwoo’s cooking!” Myungjun grinned and kissed Jinwoo’s cheek. “I look forward to it!”

The happiness that filled Jinwoo’s heart was not easily shaken these days. He didn’t know if he could ever be unhappy again, really, not with Myungjun by his side. Moments would sometimes hit where his guilt would override all other thoughts and concerns, but he would do as his therapist recommended: he would sit still and take deep breaths and remind himself that nothing could be done to change the path, only the future. 

Myungjun was a great help in all matters relating to Jinwoo’s issues. If he was beside Jinwoo, then such guilt often stayed away.

Life was turning out far better than Jinwoo ever assumed it would and he was finally  _ happy _ .

They made it to the boat with little issue, and Jinwoo showed off Donghee’s little fishing boat to Myungjun, explaining all of the tools they would be using and all of the parts of the boat that would truly matter. He fitted Myungjun with a life vest, too, and despaired a bit because, “I wish I had little arm floaties for you.”

“If you tried sticking arm floaties on me, I’d smack you,” Myungjun warned him, though he smiled as Jinwoo removed his scarf.

By the time they were racing out to sea, the sun had chased away all signs of night and was warming up the chill from before. Myungjun struggled to take off his big coat, and so Jinwoo stepped in to unzip it for him and take it off underneath the life vest.

“You look cute all bundled up,” Jinwoo said, folding the coat and setting it aside, “but I have to admit, I do like taking clothes off of you.”

Myungjun snorted and pointed to Jinwoo’s own coat. “Let me do the same, then,” he demanded, and Jinwoo gave in. Myungjun didn’t struggle as much with Jinwoo’s jacket, as Jinwoo had yet to wear his own life vest, but when it was gone, he giggled, “Wow, that was sexy.”

“Wasn’t it?” Jinwoo teased, sticking a hat on his head and gazing out at the ocean. “All right, this is a good spot. Have you ever fished before?”

“Nope.” Myungjun grabbed the fishing pole Jinwoo had acquired for him. “Which I guess is a bit weird for someone who primarily cooks with fish, isn’t it?”

Jinwoo shrugged his shoulders. “You’ve cooked with chicken and pork and beef, and you don’t kill any of those yourself,” he pointed out, and Myungjun smiled at the comparison. “Here, come to the edge so I can teach you how to cast your line.”

Myungjun was a good learner. He was excited to learn, though Jinwoo had an inkling that half of the excitement was because Myungjun was able to press against Jinwoo while he learned about the fishing pole. He kept kissing Jinwoo whenever there was a chance, and Jinwoo would sigh heavily as Myungjun giggled.

They didn’t catch anything for some time. They sat by the edge of the boat, peering over occasionally, eating breakfast that Myungjun had prepared for them the day before. It was a simple meal, something that would keep well and could be eaten cold, and Jinwoo was grateful for it. He chewed on the melon pieces as he examined the water.

Myungjun broke their comfortable silence. “I thought you were a fisherman.”

“I am.”

“Then where’s the fish?”

Jinwoo pursed his lips and muttered, “Maybe they’re still sleeping.”

“Maybe you guys overfished these waters.”

“We don’t fish here usually.” Jinwoo sat back and hummed, glancing over at Myungjun with a soft smile. “Maybe they’re not hungry for bait.”

“Maybe they wanted worms.”

“Maybe, but who was going to dig them up?”

Myungjun blanched and shook his head. “I hate bugs. I won’t touch a worm. Gross.” He then raised his eyebrows and commented, “Maybe  _ you _ should’ve dug them up.”

“Maybe they don’t want worms, either. Maybe they want your yummy breakfast.”

Myungjun held his little glass container of eggs and fruit close to him and replied, “Over my dead body.”

Jinwoo chuckled but then suddenly noticed Myungjun’s fishing pole jerk. He set his food aside and gestured over to the rod. “You’ve got something.”

Myungjun was a bit more frantic than Jinwoo. He shoved his food away from him and scrambled to his feet, grasping at his pole with both fear and determination, and he asked, “Now what?”

“Reel it in. Like this.” Jinwoo took a position behind Myungjun and wrapped his arms around the man, holding onto the fishing pole as well. He taught Myungjun how to best reel in a catch, how to move slow enough that the fish wouldn’t jerk away, but fast enough that the fish wouldn’t free itself. Myungjun kept his eyes out at sea, trying to catch sight of the fish stuck to the end of his line, and Jinwoo could feel him jittering a bit with excitement.

Jinwoo was also excited. He liked showing new things to Myungjun. He liked helping his boyfriend discover new activities that were interesting and challenging. He  _ liked _ Myungjun, and while they reeled in the catch together, he couldn’t help but kiss the side of Myungjun’s head.

It was a small fish, a mackerel, and Myungjun was excited with his catch. He stood with it, holding it by its tail, and made Jinwoo snap a few photos. 

“Normally, people wouldn’t be happy over so small of a fish,” Jinwoo pointed out as Myungjun examined the mackerel. 

Myungjun scoffed at him. “Such a supportive boyfriend.”

“Are you going to cook that one for me, or do you want to try catching something bigger?” Jinwoo grinned and flexed his muscles. “After all, I’m a growing man, and I need something filling.”

“All this talk and you haven’t caught your own fish yet,” Myungjun chastised. He set his mackerel back in the cooler Jinwoo had brought and rolled up his sleeves, the challenge clear on his face. “I bet I’ll catch more fish than you.”

A grin came over Jinwoo’s face as he checked on his fishing rod. “Challenge accepted,” he declared, and they shook on it.

In the end, Jinwoo  _ had _ caught more fish. Bigger fish, too, from comparison, but he had to admit that half of that was due to Myungjun’s inexperience. Myungjun seemed unsure of when his line was pulled, and he often mistook a sudden wave for a tug. He pulled his line up empty more often than not, and would pout as he attached more bait and threw it back into the ocean.

“You didn’t do bad, though,” Jinwoo pointed out as he lathered his neck and face with extra sunscreen. “I mean, you caught a really large sea bass.” Jinwoo opened the cooler to examine Myungjun’s fish, and he grinned at the size of the bass. “This could probably make a couple of meals, honestly. You should save this one for your restaurant.”

The sun was hanging low in the sky, and it was time to turn back. Jinwoo shut the cooler with a sigh and made his way to Myungjun, who sat near the wheel of the boat. “We’ll cook the mackerel. I have a grill at my place. I’m not sure if I have ingredients for side dishes, but there’s a store close to where I live, so we can pop in there to see.” 

He started the engine again and began to turn the ship around. Myungjun watched him all the while, a soft smile on his face as the wind brushed through his hair.

Jinwoo finally glanced over at him and laughed. “You haven’t taken your eyes off of me, Sunshine. What’s up?”

“Just thinking,” responded Myungjun.

“About what?”

“Good thoughts. Thoughts on how handsome you are and thoughts on how happy you are and thoughts on how much I love you.”

Jinwoo grinned. It was impossible not to. “You’re being sappy.”

“I can’t help it. I just love you so much.” Myungjun stood from his seat and shuffled over to Jinwoo. He wrapped his arms around Jinwoo’s waist, his one hand resting comfortably at Jinwoo’s stomach. He kissed the back of Jinwoo’s neck and then nuzzled his nose into whatever skin he was able to find. “You smell like the ocean,” he murmured.

“I smell like fish.”

“I smell like fish, too,” Myungjun pointed out. “Perks of being a seafood ramen cook. It’s a comforting smell, though. It reminds me of yummy food and of the beach and of the docks where you and all your work friends sell me cod.”

“You do like cod.”

“I love cod.” Myungjun squeezed Jinwoo just a bit tighter. “And I love you.”

Jinwoo swallowed past the lump that was forming in his throat. He kept his eyes on the horizon, on the beach that lay before them, and wondered how his life had taken this turn. He had suffered so much, but now, finally, he was allowed to be happy.

He leaned back slightly, turning his head to kiss Myungjun, and he murmured, “I love you, too.”

Myungjun beamed, brighter than sunshine, and Jinwoo knew his life would forever be perfect. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can catch yo with ya girl seal on her twitter [@thevonseal](https://www.twitter.com/thevonseal). there is where i shall post spoilers, schedules, and general nonsense.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im gonna be honest, i think this fic will have no more warnings. :)

Jinwoo awoke with a start, his head jerking upwards as he tried his best to get a read on his surroundings. Having been pulled from a lovely dream so suddenly, it took him a bit to discern what was in his mind and what he was staring at in reality.

Then, beside him, Myungjun murmured, “Hey there, sleepyhead.”

Jinwoo licked at his dry lips, then reached a hand in his pocket to dig around for chapstick. “Fell asleep,” he replied, though he knew Myungjun was already well-aware of that fact. “What time is it?”

“Evening,” responded Myungjun, looking down to check his phone. It lit up briefly; a picture of the two of them was the chosen background. They smiled at the camera, heads close together and eyes alight with happiness. Jinwoo always liked that photo, and he smiled fondly at it before Myungjun dimmed the screen again. “It’s after six.”

Their bus was set to arrive in the city around eight, and so Jinwoo settled back in his seat and rested his head onto Myungjun’s shoulder again. “More time for a nap.”

“You’re putting my arm to sleep,” Myungjun complained, wiggling around slightly. “Didn’t you bring your travel pillow?”

Jinwoo shook his head, temple hitting Myungjun’s shoulder accidentally. “I forgot it.”

“You’re dumb.”

“Mm, I know.” Jinwoo closed his eyes and yawned. “Let your dumb boyfriend sleep.”

“No. I don’t think I will. I think I’ll keep you up.”

“I like sleep too much. You can’t keep me up.”

Myungjun scoffed, and in a moment of defiance, he pulled his phone back up and began scrolling through pictures. “Let’s see what I can find here,” he teased. “Look, there we are yesterday at the beach. And...look, here’s one of me wearing my favorite pajamas. The ramen ones. I have a headband in this one—”

“I haven’t seen the headband one,” Jinwoo fussed, sitting up and grabbing at the phone. Myungjun gave a small cheer in celebration, but Jinwoo just laughed as he looked down at the selfie Myungjun had taken. 

His boyfriend really was the cutest person ever, with his bright smile and pretty face. The headband selfie was especially cute; his hair was pushed back by a fluffy, pink headband, one he used often while washing his face. Jinwoo cooed over the selfie, then asked, “Why haven’t you sent this one to me yet?”

“I have a few surprises up my sleeve,” Myungjun announced, waggling his eyebrows mysteriously. “There are several photos I own that you have yet to lay eyes on.” He snatched the phone away from Jinwoo as he spoke, adding, “I’m going to use them to incentivize you to do stuff.”

“This is basically blackmail,” Jinwoo complained.

“Perhaps. But as long as it works well, who cares what it’s called?” Myungjun grinned, wicked and amused, as he pocketed his phone once again. “Talk to me, Jinnie. Tell me what you were dreaming about.”

Jinwoo sighed and leaned his head back to stare up at the ceiling of the bus. It was getting darker outside, and he was ready to turn on the overhead lights, but he wouldn’t stretch just yet. Besides, Myungjun was reading books on a tablet, and Jinwoo — when awake — was watching video tutorials on becoming a talented photographer. Neither of them needed the extra light at the moment.

“In my dream,” he started, “I was eating ramen.”

“We really need more balanced meals,” Myungjun interjected. “We’re eating too many noodles. You know all the carbs we’re consuming? I’m getting a little chubby.” He patted his own stomach. “You’ve got some love handles to hang onto, at least.”

“Oh, please.” Jinwoo rolled his eyes. “You’re not chubby at all.”

“Just a bit.” Before Jinwoo could deny that, Myungjun looked at him and said, “At least you turned all your weight into some really nice muscles. I like the muscles, Jinnie. I hope you keep them forever. And in order to keep them forever, we probably need less noodles. I’ll have to start prepping us other stuff at work.”

With a giggle, Jinwoo leaned over and planted a quick kiss onto Myungjun’s cheek. No one else was around to see, and the bus driver wouldn’t notice. “Pay attention to my dream,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir,” Myungjun replied, a wide grin on his face. “Continue.”

And so Jinwoo relayed his story to Myungjun, adding a few details here and there in an effort to make his dream (where all he did was eat a copious amount of ramen while sitting in the middle of the desert) a little more exciting. 

He couldn’t help but grow nervous, however, as the bus neared its destination; Seoul. Seoul was where Jinwoo had joined the gang. Seoul was where Jinwoo had betrayed Myungjun. Seoul was where Jinwoo had witnessed horrible things, had gotten addicted to drugs, and had nearly killed his boyfriend.

He was nervous to be back in the city he had run away from, but Myungjun wanted him to meet his parents all over again. Apparently, Myungjun had told them early on in their rekindled relationship that he had found Jinwoo. They were disappointed at first, but after Bin sent word to them of Jinwoo’s turn-around, they soon became more accepting. According to Myungjun, they would be happy to meet him.

Jinwoo didn’t know how accurate that was. The last time he had spoken with Myungjun’s parents was when Myungjun was in the hospital with a bad concussion and a ruined hand. Could they really put that issue aside in order to accept Jinwoo as a member of their family? He wasn’t sure. He hoped they would. He prayed they would.

He initially wasn’t going to come on the trip, too caught up in his fears and worries, but Myungjun longed to show him off to the world. Besides, he said, if they were to date, then he at least wanted to be able to travel home with Jinwoo by his side.

The sun set. Darkness took over the night sky and Jinwoo finally flipped on their light switches so they could settle comfortably in the seats. He laid his head back down onto Myungjun’s shoulder, though his nerves prevented him for sleeping any. 

And then the bus pulled to its final stop.

“Come on,” Myungjun ordered him, nudging Jinwoo’s side. “We need to get our bags.”

Jinwoo’s heart pounded heavily in his chest. Myungjun’s parents were waiting for them just outside the station in a brand new car they had bought due to the success of  _ The Star _ . They would greet Myungjun warmly, and Jinwoo knew they would turn a cold shoulder to him. There was no reason they wouldn’t. They  _ should _ hate him, shouldn’t they? After everything he had done to their sweet son, how could they not hate him?

Myungjun kissed him suddenly and smiled wide. “Come on,” he repeated, softer this time. “They’ll be happy to see you.”

Myungjun helped him to pull their suitcases down from the luggage compartment and they shuffled their way off the bus. 

The excitement in Myungjun’s step was impossible to ignore. It had been a while since he had last seen his family, apparently. They had come for the grand opening of his restaurant but had their own business to attend to and hadn’t gotten another chance to visit. This was the first since Myungjun moved so far away, and so Jinwoo knew it would be a special one.

Sure enough, his family stood just outside, his mother practically shivering with excitement. The moment they caught sight of Myungjun, they made a beeline to him. His father reached Myungjun first and encased him in a warm hug, which his mother then weaseled her way into.

Sanha, with Minhyuk in tow, grinned brightly but waited his turn.

And Jinwoo stood awkwardly behind his boyfriend, head ducked in an attempt to appear invisible.

“Hey, Jinwoo!” greeted Sanha, as if all of Jinwoo’s horrible deeds had never been made known to him. Jinwoo glanced over in confusion. “What’s up?”

“Not...not much. Long trip. My legs hurt,” Jinwoo replied. 

“I can bet! When we went down there for  _ Sunshine’s _ grand opening, I was about to die.” Sanha held hands with Minhyuk, unashamed of his proximity with the older boy, and Jinwoo blinked.

“Are you two dating?” he asked.

“ _ Officially _ ,” Myungjun piped up suddenly, pulling back from the hug he shared with his parents. “They’ve been  _ un _ officially dating for years and years.”

“It wasn’t that long,” Sanha defended.

Myungjun snorted but then turned a grin to Minhyuk. “Are you treating him well, Hyuk?” he asked, instantly going for another hug with his friend.

A hand clapped onto Jinwoo’s shoulder. Jinwoo jumped and swiveled his head to the side, where Myungjun’s father stood. The man’s hands rubbed at his back lightly and asked, “How are you, Jinwoo?”

Jinwoo felt a little panicked. “Fine,” he responded. “H-How are you, sir?”

“I’m good,” Mr. Kim said. He smiled. “Need help with your bags?”

“I’ve got them.”

“Nonsense. You must be tired. When we took that journey, I felt exhausted, even if all you do is sit around.” Despite Jinwoo’s protests, Mr. Kim still grabbed the suitcase from Jinwoo’s hands. “We have some dinner already cooked. We’ll just warm it up when we get home. And it isn’t a noodle dish.”

Sanha giggled and added, “Thank god for that, too, because I think I’m sick of eating noodles. That’s all I eat sometimes when working.”

It was a little overwhelming to stand in the presence of Myungjun’s family and have them act so accepting was odd. It was unexpected, in any case, and Jinwoo shuffled after them to the car, wondering what he ought to say to make things less awkward.

Myungjun moved into step beside him, taking his hand and kissing the knuckles briefly. “Jinwoo taught me how to fish a few weeks ago.”

“Why didn’t you push him in, Jinwoo?” asked Sanha, and Myungjun tried to reach out and land a punch onto his brother. He was unable to, and Sanha jumped away, tittering with amusement. 

“Jinwoo wouldn’t ever push me into the ocean,” Myungjun replied with a scoff. “He’s far too perfect for that.”

No one disputed Myungjun’s claims. Instead, the conversation continued, with Sanha then proclaiming Minhyuk to be perfect and Minhyuk teasing that Sanha was a beanstalk and Mr. and Mrs. Kim both laughing and adding in quips whenever necessary. Jinwoo couldn’t believe that they were so calm in his presence; last time they met, he was sure Myungjun’s mother wanted to punch him in the throat.

As he and Myungjun settled down in Myungjun’s old bedroom, Jinwoo whispered, “Do they like me?”

Myungjun nodded his head. “I’ve sent them daily updates on how you’re doing. They don’t hold grudges, Jinnie, and they won’t ever dangle your mistakes above you. Promise. If I still trust you, then so do they.”

Jinwoo licked at his lips and glanced over at the door. He wanted to ensure that no one else in the family would be able to hear him talk. He didn’t want them to think he was ungrateful for their sweet acceptance. “And they...they’re okay that it was my fault you got—”

“How many times do you need to hear that it wasn’t your fault before you believe me?” Myungjun asked, a smile on his face. “My parents thought it was at first. They hated you for a bit, but then...I dunno. They felt pity for you. You were involved in a gang you hated. Some creep trying to find you wasn’t  _ your _ fault. And when I found you again and we started getting along, they were so happy that you were doing well.”

Jinwoo’s heart thumped wildly in his chest as he thought of the acceptance that Myungjun’s family was showing him. “So...so none of them hate me?”

“Nope.” Myungjun kissed Jinwoo’s cheek. “They love you like I do.”

“I hope not.”

“Well, okay, not exactly like I love you, but they will love you like family. Trust me.”

Jinwoo did. Jinwoo always trusted Myungjun.

**☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼**

Dinner that night was a casual affair. They sat around the table and shared a generous meal that Mr. and Mrs. Kim had worked together to prepare. Everything was delicious, which Jinwoo supposed he should’ve suspected from restaurant owners, and the conversation was light and fun. Several times, Jinwoo was asked about his own life. They were all interested in commercial fishing and how long he was out at sea for during the day. Mrs. Kim commented that his skin was still pale, despite his hours in the hot, island sun and she asked for his nightly skin routine. Sanha wondered if Jinwoo had ever fallen overboard or been through storms. Minhyuk teased that Jinwoo might be the first to catch a kraken. 

Not a word was mentioned in regards to Jinwoo’s past or Myungjun’s missing hand. That subject was kept locked away, forgotten and, oddly enough, forgiven.

It was Sanha who inadvertently brought it up again. After a funny story of how Sanha had scared Minhyuk one day at their shared apartment nearby, the young man asked, “Are you two living together yet?” and gestured over at Jinwoo and Myungjun.

Jinwoo could sense the uncomfortable tension in the room after such a simple question. Mr. Kim looked down at his food and Mrs. Kim cleared her throat and shifted lightly in her seat. Even Minhyuk observed how the question had brought up upsetting memories, and he nudged Sanha’s shoulder and loudly proclaimed, “Not everyone is immoral as us, San.” 

“What’s immoral about living together?”

“Well, it’s good to get married first.”

“I asked!” Sanha exclaimed. “And you said  _ why would I want to marry a big man-child? _ ” 

Minhyuk snickered and glanced over at Jinwoo. An understanding acceptance shone in his eyes as he responded to Sanha’s quip with, “It’s not legal yet for us to get married, so keep saving up to buy me a huge engagement ring.”

Though Minhyuk had tried his best to curb any awkward feelings due to Sanha’s question, he couldn’t take back words. They had left Sanha’s mouth and were now floating in the middle of the table, lingering on everyones’ minds.

Jinwoo needed to take responsibility for his actions, and so he spoke up, “We’re not living together.”

“Yet,” Myungjun added, a bright smile on his face. Like Sanha, he seemed oblivious to the tension, though Jinwoo was positive it was all an act. Myungjun was smart. Myungjun caught on fast. There was no way that Myungjun hadn’t noticed the sudden change of atmosphere in the room, and yet he chose to freely discuss the one thing his parents were scared of.

Jinwoo wasn’t sure what to make of that, and so he kept quiet.

“But we will live together soon. I haven’t decided who will have to move.”

“I’d move for you,” Jinwoo was quick to say. His house meant nothing to him, but Myungjun’s apartment, with its pretty balcony that overlooked the pristine beach and its abundance of plants, and its bright photographs that adorned the walls, had a fond place in Jinwoo’s heart. That was where he wanted to spend the rest of his life, curled up beside Myungjun while they watched the sun set over clear waters.

Myungjun nodded his head and said, “Well, then, that’s decided. When do you want to move in with me, Jinnie?”

“Are we really discussing this here?” Jinwoo asked, trying to lower his voice to a whisper. He knew everyone heard, though. Everyone was listening in, their gazes curious and surprised and their bodies leaned forward to catch every last word. Jinwoo wouldn’t mind agreeing instantly to Myungjun’s request, but in front of his parents? It was too awkward and too uncomfortable.

Surprisingly, however, Myungjun’s mother chimed in, “His place is too large for one person, anyway. I’m surprised he’s lived alone for this long.”

Myungjun laughed and mentioned, “I talk to my plants. It’s the only thing that keeps me sane.”

“You mean  _ in _ sane,” Sanha muttered, and Myungjun nearly threw a piece of beef in his direction. 

Jinwoo wasn’t sure if that meant approval from Myungjun’s family. He hoped it did, and so he tentatively asked, “Would it be alright if we moved in together?” His question was directed to Myungjun, but he wanted to include the input of the rest of Myungjun’s family. He refused to move in if they did not approve, for he wanted, above all else, for harmony between Myungjun and his parents. He was scared to tear Myungjun away from such a loving family.

“Of course it would be!” Myungjun declared. He sent a fleeting glance to his mother; it was brief and quick, a movement Jinwoo might’ve missed had he not been paying close attention to the emotions of everyone involved. However, with that one look, Myungjun seemed satisfied, and he grinned widely as he piled some meat onto Jinwoo’s plate. “I’ll feed you in the mornings and you can feed me in the evenings. I can do laundry and you can do the dishes. We’ll both sweep and vacuum and water my plants. And we can spend the nights on the balcony and just watch the tide come in. It’ll be super romantic.”

Sanha made a noise of disgust and whispered loudly to Minhyuk, “I never want to be like those two. Gross.”

Minhyuk responded, in a voice of regular volume, “Good, so don’t expect me to do anything nice for you, you dork.”

But Myungjun ignored all of that in favor of accepting Jinwoo’s answer, whatever it might be. 

And Jinwoo, with the knowledge that he had everyone’s approval, couldn’t help but smile widely. “Sure,” he agreed, “but  _ you _ wash the dishes and  _ I _ do the laundry.”

“We’ll talk about that,” Myungjun joked, and the giddiness in his voice was impossible to miss.

Jinwoo hadn’t felt so happy in a long time, and he piled food onto his spoon and returned back to their conversation around the dining room table.

He was loved. He was accepted.

His life, finally, felt perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can catch yo with ya girl seal on her twitter [@thevonseal](https://www.twitter.com/thevonseal). there is where i shall post spoilers, schedules, and general nonsense.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're nearing the end! one or two more chapters left!

“There.” Jinwoo set down his final box and looked around Myungjun’s living room, which he had effectively ruined with all of his other boxes. He grimaced and apologized for the mess. “Sorry. I didn’t realize I had so much to pack.”

Myungjun closed the door behind Jinwoo and smiled brightly. He had been smiling for two weeks straight; once Jinwoo had sold his house, the smile never faltered. And now that they were done moving all of Jinwoo’s belongings, his smile seemed even wider than ever before.

“Don’t be sorry! I told you, I have space for everything you own. And if I don’t, I’ll just make space.” He stepped over a box labelled  _ Computer Stuff _ and made his way to Jinwoo’s side. “Besides, it’s really not that much. I can’t believe you owned a house for several years and you only have enough boxes for one trip in a pick-up truck.”

Jinwoo waited until Myungjun was by his side before wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. “It’s because I put all of my memories in you; everything else was useless to me.”

Myungjun scoffed, though he did look embarrassed to be the subject of Jinwoo’s constant praise. “Well, at least you didn’t throw away Pikachu. I’d be sad if he was gone.”

The Pikachu, the one with the top hat, sat on Myungjun’s couch now. Amongst the other colorful decor, it was clear that the plushie belonged inside Myungjun’s bright and cheerful apartment. He had finally found his way back home, and Jinwoo laughed as he looked upon the small stuffed animal with delight. 

“I could never throw away Pikachu. He means a lot to me.” The Pikachu had been with Jinwoo through everything, and Jinwoo had grown far too attached to such a simple plushie. 

Though, really, the Pikachu had finished its task. It comforted Jinwoo when he was lonesome, when he was tired, when he was depressed. It stuck by his side as a sore substitute for Myungjun’s shining presence. Now that Jinwoo had found his way back to Myungjun, he supposed he no longer needed a worn and dusty-looking bunny creature as his companion.

But he wouldn’t toss Pikachu, either, not when the dumb thing meant so much to him. 

“He means a lot to me, too,” Myungjun told Jinwoo, planting a kiss onto Jinwoo’s cheek. “But  _ you _ mean even more to me.”

He had effectively drawn Jinwoo’s attention from the Pikachu. Jinwoo smirked as Myungjun kissed him again. “How much do I mean to you?”

Myungjun pursed his lips in thought, then asked, “You know how you always call me  _ Sunshine? _ ”

“Yeah.”

“That’s what you are to me.  _ Sunshine _ . You light up my path and you give me life. You’re someone I don’t think I could do without.”

“You can’t steal my nickname. I spent a while thinking up that nickname, Sunshine.”

“You can’t tell me what to do, Sunshine,” Myungjun teased, and he giggled loudly when Jinwoo jabbed at his side. “Alright,” he conceded without much of a fight. “I’ll just stick to Jinnie. My sweet, sweet Jinnie. My Jinnie who lights up my path and gives me life.”

Jinwoo liked that one. It was nostalgic, in some sense, and reminded Jinwoo of only the good memories of their past spent together. He wrapped his arms around Myungjun and hugged him close for a brief second before murmuring, “I like being your Jinnie.”

“I wasn’t giving you an option,” Myungjun mocked, and Jinwoo released him with an exasperated sigh as Myungjun giggled relentlessly.

They spent the rest of the evening unpacking Jinwoo’s boxes. Myungjun divided up his dresser to allow room for Jinwoo’s clothes, and the closets were filled with a few nicer shirts and trousers. His movies were set alongside Myungjun’s, and they both noticed obvious trends in tastes. Jinwoo had old historical flicks, whereas Myungjun kept mostly cartoons. 

“That’s what makes us so compatible, you know,” Myungjun stated, finishing off the box he was working on. “We like different things. Even though I didn’t really view you as a historical-movie sort.”

“What sort did you view me as, then?” asked Jinwoo, glancing curiously over at his boyfriend.

“Action,” Myungjun replied. He was quick in his answer, and he nodded confidently toward Jinwoo. “Superheroes. The underdog gets the upper hand sort.”

Jinwoo hummed lightly. “I enjoy those, too. I have a few, anyway. I just think that historical movies are more interesting. Action can get boring sometimes. Like you mentioned, most of it seems to be  _ the underdog gets the upper hand _ . And I guess a lot of my older movies are the same, so maybe you aren’t wrong.” He finished putting away the final movie, then leaned back to admire their work. It was a tight fit, but at least everything was out of boxes. Myungjun’s living room was looking less and less like a chaotic wreck. 

Myungjun laid his head down onto Jinwoo’s shoulder. “I view you as an underdog,” he whispered. “I always have.”

“I wasn’t always.”

“You were. Even when you didn’t think you were, you  _ were _ . You were never like any of your friends. You had a bad life but you were a good person. And you kept trying hard to lift yourself out of your situation and find something even better.”

Jinwoo swallowed thickly. He kissed Myungjun’s forehead and replied, voice quiet, “I found something better.”

He found his sunshine. In the darkness of the world around him, he had snatched a hold of sunshine. He had grasped it and brought it close to him and he had climbed up from the depths of the blackness that consumed him. 

Myungjun, as if recognizing what his words meant, curled even closer into Jinwoo’s side. “I’m happy we found each other,” he said. “And I’m happy that we re-found each other. I know this is stupid and silly and cliched to say, but I really don’t think I could ever live without you.”

Jinwoo knew that was a lie. He knew they could both live without each other, as they had in the seven years apart. But life truly seemed to bloom once they were a couple again. Color had seeped back into Jinwoo’s life; apparently, it was the same for Myungjun.

Their love made life even more worth living, and so Jinwoo knew exactly what Myungjun meant.

“I definitely can’t live without Sunshine,” he murmured before kissing Myungjun.

Myungjun smiled against his lips and threw his arms around Jinwoo’s shoulders. 

They fell over, onto the floor, kissing each other wherever lips could reach. Myungjun was soft to his touch, and so Jinwoo offered no hesitation to remove Myungjun’s shirt and trail his lips downwards, all across Myungjun’s chest.

They made love right then and there, and Jinwoo felt the afterglow of sex hit him hard. He moved off of Myungjun’s body, panting and staring over at his boyfriend, who grinned happily right back at him.

“We’ve christened my apartment well,” Myungjun commented, sounding a little proud and smug of what they had done. “I’ve always wanted to do that, you know.”

“Do what?”

“Have sex on the floor.”

Jinwoo snorted and grabbed Myungjun’s shirt, tossing it over his head. “We still need to unpack,” he commented, “or, at least, go to sleep and save the rest for tomorrow. You have too many boxes around your living room for us to just lay here.”

“Aw, come on,” Myungjun whined, moving his shirt aside. “Lay with me for a bit longer, please.”

“In bed, sure.” Jinwoo laughed at Myungjun’s expression. He dressed himself and stood, then helped Myungjun stand. “I’m tired out, anyway. I just want to lay down and stare at you for a long time.”

He swore he could detect a blush overtake Myungjun’s features, but the older man quickly redressed and gestured down the hallway. “Let’s go, then. I want you to stare at me for a long time, too.”

“Cheeky.”

“Sure, but that’s why you love me, isn’t it?”

Jinwoo hummed. “One of the many reasons.”

There were thousands of reasons to love sunshine, and he supposed the cheekiness could be one.

**☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼**

Winter was finally making itself known. All throughout November and December, the temperatures had remained steady and relatively warm. Chilly days were few and far between, which was something Jinwoo definitely appreciated. Now that it was growing cold, however, he found work to be unbearable, and he bundled up in rain jackets to protect him from the frigid water and the rain that would often pelt down from above.

Myungjun was his constant sunshine through it all, fortunately. Myungjun woke him in the mornings with kisses across his cheek and a few tickles, which he kept up until he had Jinwoo laughing. They would eat breakfast together, staring out the large windows from the cozy warmth of the apartment. Jinwoo would leave first for work, but not before embracing Myungjun and whispering soft words of love in his ear.

He was the reason that Jinwoo smiled despite all the hardships. He was the reason for everything.

Jinwoo’s coworkers certainly noticed the change within him. A few of them commented on it, too, Donghee especially.

“When are you gonna let us meet your girlfriend?” he asked Jinwoo as they unpacked some fish at the market. “She must be really special if she’s making you smile like that.”

Jinwoo often found himself smiling without actually meaning to. He tried to stop it once Donghee noticed, but he kept remembering how Myungjun had worn one of his t-shirts to bed and how Myungjun’s hair was so cute when it was messy and how Myungjun yawned widely and how precious Myungjun truly was.

“Maybe,” he muttered to Donghee, knowing that he wasn’t in any position to show Myungjun off just yet. He wished he could, though. He wished he could grab Myungjun and show him off to all of his friends, to proclaim Myungjun as his eternal lover, to kiss him and hold him without any sort of fear of what others might think.

Would Donghee mind? Would any of them actually mind? Part of him didn’t think they would. They seemed to have accepted him fully, despite what baggage he might bring. But the other part of him was still scared to be open with his feelings. If they followed the societal norms of Korea, then they would shun him. He might lose his friends. He might lose his job.

He pondered all of this, agonizing over it enough that soon his smile fell.

Donghee noticed  _ that _ , too.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” Donghee apologized. Jinwoo glanced at him in surprise, and Donghee continued, “And I’m sorry if any of the other guys made you uncomfortable. That wasn’t my intention. I’m sure it wasn’t their intention, either.”

“No, that’s...that’s not…” Jinwoo bit down on his lip and then sighed. “Can I talk to you, Donghee? It’s...it’s important.”

“Sure.” Donghee straightened up, worry etched onto his face. “Here? Or would you like to go somewhere more private?”

Not here. Not where customers lingered, waiting for gossip, and where Jinwoo’s fellow colleagues might hear. He glanced around, then whispered, “Somewhere else?”

Donghee was quick to nod. “Right. We can go on break. Let’s walk down to my boat, alright? I’ve got some food waiting for me, anyway.”

And so they began the silent trek to Donghee’s boat, and Jinwoo wondered if he ought to just run. He should, right? He shouldn’t stick around when it was clear he might be making the situation horrible for himself. If Donghee disproved of his lifestyle, then he would be cast aside. If Donghee’s opinion of him turned negative, then Jinwoo would feel lost.

He had reached out to Donghee as a mentor, as a protector, as a  _ father _ . He hadn’t realized, until this very moment, how important Donghee was to him and how much he wanted to please the older man. Donghee had been there for him through thick and thin. The moment Jinwoo had arrived on the island, Donghee had taken him up under his wing and had ensured that Jinwoo remained comfortable in all that he did. 

Now, Jinwoo reached out for him once more, and he prayed that Donghee would stick around.

He didn’t talk until they were both seated on the boat, still at the dock and overlooking the busy sea. Donghee shoved some rice into his mouth, then asked, “What’s going on, Jinwoo?”

Jinwoo sighed and stared down at his own share of Donghee’s food. He didn’t want to eat yet. “Remember, a few years ago, the roommate I had?”

Donghee stared at Jinwoo, then nodded his head. “The lawyer. What was his name? It was an American name, wasn’t it?”

“Eric,” Jinwoo confirmed. “He was born in America.”

“Ah. Right. Whatever happened to him?”

Jinwoo hesitated for a second, then murmured, “We broke up.”

Donghee said nothing. Donghee merely watched him, and so Jinwoo continued. The words had already come out, anyway. He might as well finish what he started. “And...and now I’m dating Myungjun. You know, the owner of that ramen shop we all like?  _ Sunshine? _ I’m dating him.” He picked at his rice. “We had dated each other years ago, when we were both really young. We never really broke up. I left him. I left him alone in a hospital bed with his hand infected and talks of amputation swirling around. When he appeared again, I...I tried to stay away from him. I mean, I was the reason his fucking hand is gone. I’m no good for him. But he...he still wanted me. And I finally had to give in, because I love him so much.” Jinwoo spared a glance up at Donghee, who kept watching him, eyes not once looking away. “I understand if you hate me for being gay, but it’s not...it’s not something I can control. And I’m so happy with Myungjun, anyway. I’ve moved in with him, and it’s...it finally feels like my life is perfect, for once, for the very first time.”

He had nothing more to say. He didn’t want to embarrass himself further, and so he shoveled some rice into his mouth in an attempt to stop the tears he could feel welling up inside. 

Donghee spoke as Jinwoo was swallowing. “I knew you had dated Eric.”

Jinwoo almost choked. He coughed a few times, then looked back to Donghee’s smiling face. “You  _ knew? _ ”

“We all knew,” Donghee laughed. “We went out drinking one night and you told us. We were shocked then, of course, since we hadn’t pegged you as a gay man, but we came around, some of us sooner than others.”

“But…” Jinwoo gaped at his friend. “You...you guys always teased me about having a girlfriend!”

Donghee shrugged and said, “We didn’t want you to know that we knew. You didn’t seem comfortable with telling us sober, so we decided to pretend we  _ didn’t _ know. And it’s only recently that we teased you about the girlfriend. You were just so cheerful and happy, and Woosung saw the  _ For Sale _ sign up at your house. I figured you had moved in with a boyfriend. Now, I hadn’t expected Myungjun, honestly, but I guess it makes sense. He always seems to get under your skin the most out of all our customers.”

Jinwoo still felt shocked. He wasn’t sure what to say. He couldn’t refute anything, nor could he accuse Donghee and the others of withholding such information from him. All he muttered was, “I don’t even remember telling you guys about me and Eric.”

“You got wasted. You got wasted a lot, early on. Relationship issues, right?” When Jinwoo looked at him in surprise, Donghee laughed again. “You blabbed all of that, too, don’t worry. Apparently, the sex with Eric wasn’t as good as the sex with Myungjun.”

“Oh, god,” Jinwoo moaned, falling back in his seat.

Donghee grinned. “A lot of what you said was sweet, though. You thought Eric was a good person. You wanted him happy. You just didn’t think you could give him that happiness. And you never mentioned Myungjun by name, but it was always  _ my sunshine _ . You talked about him more than you talked about Eric.  _ My sunshine was perfect. My sunshine was bright. My sunshine had the best ass. _ ”

Jinwoo hid his face from Donghee’s mockery. 

“I should’ve made the connection that  _ your sunshine _ was the owner of  _ Sunshine _ . But, honestly, I hadn’t given it much thought until more recently, when it was clear you were in a relationship.”

Jinwoo wanted to jump off the boat and drown himself, but Donghee’s easy acceptance kept him in his seat. He could endure the teasing, he supposed, if it meant Donghee still liked him. “So you guys aren’t...disgusted with me?”

Donghee shook his head, then gave Jinwoo’s shoulder a small pat. “We’d never be disgusted with you, Jinwoo. Some of the guys disagree, but they won’t say anything. They still think you’re a good kid. And the rest of us just want to be invited to the wedding, so you’d better wait until Korea finally legalizes it. I’m too old to travel somewhere else. Or, at least, hold the reception here with some sort of symbolic wedding. I could wed you two off; captains can do that, you know, and I’m the captain of this ship.”

Jinwoo felt relief flood him, and he found he was at a loss for words. He wanted to say  _ thank you _ and  _ bless you _ and  _ I love all of you so much _ , but nothing came save for the smallest of whimpers. He ducked his head and hurried to eat more rice, noticing the way Donghee’s smile turned into a more sympathetic one. 

“Ah, Jinwoo,” Donghee murmured, rubbing Jinwoo’s shoulder briefly before releasing it. “I’m happy for you. I’m happy you finally found your sunshine.”

Jinwoo choked out a small, “Yeah,” and then ended up crying, anyway. 

He had found his sunshine in Myungjun, but he had also found his sunshine in life. No longer was the path he walked dark and shadowy. Instead, he reached the end of the long forest and before him lay nothing but fields of green grass and flowers, the sun eternally beating down overhead. 

Before him lay nothing but happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can catch yo with ya girl seal on her twitter [@thevonseal](https://www.twitter.com/thevonseal). there is where i shall post spoilers, schedules, and general nonsense.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well folks it's coming to an end. one more chapter after this!

Jiwoo balanced ramen precariously in her hands. Jinwoo was among the first to offer assistance, jumping out of his seat and grabbing a few bowls, but Donghee and Sungho followed soon after, praising her coordination as they passed food down the table. She seemed to shine under such praise, the bright smile never once leaving her face, and then she turned to Jinwoo and winked. “Your food is coming out in a bit. Myungjun said he has to make it special.”

The fisherman all cheered dramatically, noise erupting over the otherwise silent shop, and Jinwoo tried hard to hide his blush from all of his friends as they teased him relentlessly. Jiwoo, it seemed, quite enjoyed such a spectacle, for she watched them mock Jinwoo’s romantic life for a minute or two before one of the men asked for another beer. Only then did she rush off to the kitchen to grab what he needed.

Despite all of the teasing, Jinwoo was unable to stop from smiling. He had never expected his friends and colleagues to be so open to his relationship. He was reminded often of the stark difference of treatment between the fishermen and gang members. The fishermen might not fully agree or understand Jinwoo’s life choices, but they supported him regardless. They stuck by his side and treated Jinwoo with respect and love. They made clear that Jinwoo’s sexuality never once detracted from who he was as a person, and for that Jinwoo was eternally grateful.

He remembered how the gang members had reacted when they uncovered the truth. Taewoong had blackmailed him, keeping silent as long as he was paid off in a timely manner, and Jinwoo had paid him off. Jinwoo was scared of anyone else figuring it out. Casting him aside would’ve been a blessing, but Jinwoo wouldn’t have received such an honor. They would make it worse for him. It would have likely turned unbearable. If certain gang members heard about it, Jinwoo could have been severely injured. 

He never wanted to return from the life he had finally escaped. He wanted it to remain nothing more than a distant, unpleasant memory, one that he would hardly ever think of. He wanted  _ this _ moment to overtake his mind and leave him wanting for nothing else.

Myungjun came out just then, snapping Jinwoo’s thoughts from his hated past and back to his beloved present and hopeful future. His boyfriend grinned widely as a few of the fishermen whistled with excitement. In Myungjun’s hand was a giant bowl of ramen, already far different from the bowls the other fishermen had received.

“Sorry to make you wait,” Myungjun apologized, setting the ramen down in front of Jinwoo. “Had to make it special for my Jinnie.”

Donghee laughed and Sungho grinned wickedly, enjoying the embarrassment that Myungjun’s love was bestowing upon poor Jinwoo. 

Jinwoo cleared his throat and glanced down at his bowl. Myungjun had cut a few sausages in the shape of octopi, and had included a fried egg shaped as a heart. It was childish and cute, all at the same time, and Jinwoo felt himself glow with pride.

_ This _ was his boyfriend, whom he could finally show off. This was his lover, with whom he lived and shared fond memories and laughed and kissed and  _ loved _ . He wanted all the fishermen to know just how special and important Myungjun was to him.

He used his chopsticks to hold up the egg, displaying it to his coworkers. Even the ones who remained silent in their displeasure of Jinwoo’s sexuality cracked a smile and a few laughs. Donghee, the most supportive, cooed and then asked Myungjun, “Where’s mine?”

“He’s not dating  _ you _ ,” Jinwoo snapped, plopping the egg back down in his bowl. 

“Still, he ought to treat all customers the same,” Donghee argued, a good-natured smile on his face. “Can I get a heart-shaped egg, Myungjun?”

“Me, too!” Jehyun chimed in, raising his bowl.

Myungjun looked over at the group of boisterous, uncivilized fishermen and asked, voice still light and sweet, “Does anyone else want heart-shaped eggs in their ramen?”

The entire table raised their hands. Jinwoo wanted to sink to the floor, overwhelmed with embarrassment by his colleagues. Fortunately, Myungjun was pleasant, and he laughed at the men. 

“Alright, then. Jiwoo’s going to kill me when I give her a new task.” He giggled and then leaned over to plant a kiss onto the top of Jinwoo’s head, his lips lingering for a brief second before he pulled away. Someone further down the table gave a small holler of encouragement. Jinwoo spotted one man roll his eyes, while Donghee grinned with delight. “You guys behave. I don’t close the restaurant often, but Jinwoo promised me everyone would remain calm.”

“We’ll drink and eat enough to cover the costs of losing other customers,” Donghee promised, shooting Myungjun a small wink. 

Myungjun smirked. He had met Donghee at the docks before, back when Myungjun was nothing more to them than a customer. Though this was their first time officially meeting, Jinwoo had to admit that it had gone better than he expected for it to. Myungjun appreciated Donghee’s kind nature, and Donghee adored Myungjun’s sweet personality. Donghee had told Jinwoo, as proud as any father, “I think that kid’s just right for you.”

“I’m adding the charge of the fried eggs to the bill,” Myungjun announced. “Minus Jinwoo’s. Jinwoo’s is on the house, because he’s my boyfriend and I can do that.”

Jinwoo cleared his throat and quickly grabbed at his beer, downing it before anyone could mock him further. 

Donghee seemed to accept the losing battle, and he nodded his head and said, “Alright, alright. I get it. You can’t date us all, I get it.”

“I wouldn’t want to date anyone but Jinwoo,” Myungjun exclaimed.

Sungho laughed loudly, and Jinwoo quickly slammed his beer down and hid his face behind his hands.

True to his word, Myungjun brought out fried eggs for the rest of the fishermen, all shaped in pretty hearts and decorated with spring onions. The men seemed impressed with Myungjun’s talent in fried-egg-shaping. Some of them asked how it was done. Donghee wanted to know, too, exclaiming, “My wife will adore me if I do this.”

Myungjun, though, claimed that he couldn’t give up his secret recipes so easily, though he leaned close to Jinwoo after he sat himself down and whispered, “It was a mold. A cookie mold.”

Jinwoo tried not to laugh. “And you’re letting them think you did it all yourself?”

“Might as well. Is there any point to tell them otherwise?”

“I guess not. Here.” Jinwoo picked at one of the sausages with his chopsticks and held it out to Myungjun, who opened his mouth to graciously accept the gift.

The men cheered again. Jinwoo wondered if this was what having a big, annoying family was like.

He enjoyed it, in any case, and so he did it again, though this time Sungho groaned, “We get it, you two are adorable. Stop making the rest of us look bad.”

“Jinnie’s adorable,” Myungjun argued, and Sungho slumped over in defeat.

The night passed without much incident. True to Donghee’s word, the fishermen ate and drank a lot, more than enough to cover one night of wages earned otherwise. Myungjun was quick to supply whatever they needed; side dishes came and went, small portions of ramen were divided up between the men for tastings, and beer flowed in an endless river. By the time all of the men decided they were too full to continue, it was past midnight and everyone was pleasantly drunk. Donghee, the self-proclaimed designated driver in all social situations, arranged rides home for the men who wouldn’t fit in his van, and then herded five old, drunk men to his seats, warning them, “If you throw up, you’ll pay for it all.”

Jinwoo stayed where he was, finishing off his final beer and trying hard not to sway in his seat. Donghee gave him a small pat on the shoulder, and delivered important instructions to Myungjun: “Make sure he gets home safe, alright? And give him plenty of water so he doesn’t have a hangover in the morning.”

Myungjun nodded his head. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of him. You take care of...of everyone else.”

Donghee looked to his van, full of drunkards, and sighed. “It’s like a circus, I swear,” he muttered. “I’ll see you at work next week, Jinwoo. And, Myungjun, I expect to see you at the docks more often. We want to be the main suppliers of  _ Sunshine _ .”

Myungjun beamed, pleased with the offer. “I’ll be there next week, too!” he assured Donghee. “Can we talk about discounts?”

“You made us all pay for fried eggs.”

“ _ Heart-shaped _ fried eggs,” Myungjun corrected.

Donghee rolled his eyes, the smile never once leaving his face. He bid them both farewell, and then he scurried out the front door to his van, where two of the fishermen were already trying to fight each other.

Myungjun and Jinwoo watched him go, and then Myungjun sighed. “At least Jiwoo and I took care of the dishes already,” he commented. He had let Jiwoo off work earlier, once the dishes were washed, claiming he could take care of the rest.

Jinwoo pushed his beer can aside and nodded his head.

“God, you’re drunk.”

“Mm, just a bit. A teensy bit.” Jinwoo propped his chin up on the palm of his hand, focusing his eyes onto Myungjun’s shining presence. “Hello, beautiful.”

Myungjun giggled. “Hello, Jinnie.”

“Have I ever told you,” Jinwoo continued, trying to remain seated straight in his seat despite the way the world was moving in waves before him, “that you are the most handsome man I have ever laid my eyes on?”

“Only about a billion times.”

“Let’s make it a billion and  _ one _ .”

“Let’s,” Myungjun agreed, eager to hear more words of love spilled forth from his boyfriend’s mouth.

Jinwoo wanted to please Myungjun, and so he struggled to come up with something equally sweet and precious. “I love you,” was the first thing that came to mind. Apparently it worked, for Myungjun softened instantly.

“I love you,” Myungjun repeated.

Jinwoo hummed and said, “I  _ love _ you. I love you more than anything and anyone. I’ll love you forever. I’ve loved you since the moment I first laid eyes on you, on that bus so many years ago.”

Myungjun listened. He said nothing; he only listened. And Jinwoo babbled on, because Jinwoo liked to babble when he was filled with alcohol. “I wanted to marry you back then, you know. I wanted to...I wanted to make you my husband. I didn’t even know your name, but I’d decided already to spend every single second with you. I wanted to take you on dates and go home with you every night and have three children and a dog, maybe, and a few cats if you want cats. I wanted to grow old with you and watch your hair turn gray and get jealous because you’d still be as beautiful as you were the first day I saw you.”

“Three children?” Myungjun asked, sounding mostly amused at Jinwoo’s fantasies. 

“They’ll look just like you,” replied Jinwoo.

“Am I going to birth them, then?”

“Sure. You, or me. Whichever one of us wants to.”

“I’m on birth control, though.”

Jinwoo grabbed a balled up napkin and tossed it in Myungjun’s direction. It fell short of hitting him, and Myungjun simply laughed at his antics. “Drink some water, babe,” Myungjun exclaimed, passing a bottle over to Jinwoo’s side of the table. “I’ll clean up a bit more and then we’ll go home, alright?”

When Myungjun stood, Jinwoo also tried to stand, but he ended up sitting right back down. The world was upside down. He needed to wait until it turned back on the right side, then he would help. He mentioned as much, too. “Give me a moment. I’ll clean up.”

“No,  _ you _ need to sit there until it’s necessary to get up. Keep drinking that water, alright?”

Jinwoo nodded his head and Myungjun planted a gentle kiss onto his cheek before continuing to clean the table of leftover beer cans and napkins. He wiped everything down, as well, pushing Jinwoo’s elbows aside to reach the entirety of the surface. 

All the while, Jinwoo kept delivering praises upon him. “You’re perfect,” he would mutter, eyes drooping, “and amazing. And handsome. And sexy. You’re funny. I laugh so much with you. I smile so much with you. You’re sunshine, Jun, and you’re the stars and the moon and the air that I breathe.”

“I hope not,” Myungjun finally responded, though he sounded giddy with appreciation. “You need oxygen, not Myungjun.”

“No,” Jinwoo whined, shaking his head in denial. “I don’t need oxygen. I need Myungjun. Myungjun’s air. That’s all I need.” He sat up straighter and looked at Myungjun. “If I could spend the rest of my life kissing you, I would. I wouldn’t even eat.”

“First you’d give up air, now you’ll give up food?” Myungjun clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “You’re really being silly.”

Perhaps he was being silly, but he didn’t care at the moment. He just wanted to proclaim his eternal love for sweet, sweet Myungjun. He wanted nothing else except for Myungjun to stay by his side forever.

Myungjun finished cleaning the restaurant and began to shut off the lights. Jinwoo took that as his cue to stand, though he had to hold onto the back of the chair for balance, anyway. When Myungjun saw him, he laughed some more and hooked his arm around Jinwoo’s waist. “I’ve got you, Jinnie,” he murmured, his melodic voice filling the air with charm and adoration. 

Jinwoo couldn’t keep his love inside, so he planted a sloppy kiss onto the corner of Myungjun’s lips. “Love you,” he confessed.

“Oh, I know. And I love you, too, very much, even if you are wasted.”

“I’m not wasted,” Jinwoo retorted. “Drunk? Sure. Wasted? Not even close.”

“Alright, whatever you say,” Myungjun told him, in a tone that was very clearly dismissive yet amused. Jinwoo didn’t care. He simply leaned into his boyfriend and sighed with content, pleased with the situation he currently found himself in. Despite the possible headache he would suffer in the morning, he wouldn’t want the night to end in any other way. 

They walked to the bus stop together, Jinwoo stumbling in his steps from time to time, but Myungjun was there to right him. Even when they reached the stop, Myungjun kept him secured, tightly held within a warm embrace, and Jinwoo, huddling into his coat a bit to escape the cold, winter air, found the presence to be comforting.

He glanced over at Myungjun, who wore a cute beanie and a thick scarf and an ugly, red mitten. Jinwoo then looked down at his own outfit, with all the layers Myungjun forced him into and the yellow gloves he was proud to always slid onto his fingers. 

“I’m warm,” he mentioned quietly to Myungjun. Myungjun glanced over at him. “Are you warm?”

“Mm.” Myungjun cuddled further into Jinwoo’s side, nuzzling his nose onto Jinwoo’s cheek. “Very warm. Jinnie is warming me up.” Myungjun liked to delve into baby-talk when he felt particularly cute and affectionate, and this time was no different. Jinwoo had to giggle at Myungjun’s voice.

In order to continue Myungjun’s charade, Jinwoo asked, “Can my Sunshine give me some kisses to warm me up even more?”

“Kisses for Jinnie!” Myungjun exclaimed, and before Jinwoo could laugh, Myungjun planted a soft kiss onto his lips. It was too brief, too quick, but Myungjun made up for it by kissing Jinwoo’s nose and then his cheek. He kissed Jinwoo’s chin and his right eyelid and his left eyebrow and his temple and his forehead and his ear. He kissed every visible bit of skin he could possibly find, and then he started all over again.

Jinwoo stood there, soaking up the kisses with a grand smile on his face, before he finally pulled Myungjun away and asked, “Will you marry me?”

Myungjun blinked, momentarily shocked, but he caught himself. “Of course I will. When?”

“When...when it’s legalized. I don’t know. Maybe we can pretend. We can have a ceremony, anyway, even if we’re not  _ legally _ wed, can’t we?”

“Of course we can.” A smile was overtaking Myungjun’s expression. He looked bright, though it was past midnight and dark outside. Jinwoo supposed that made sense, for the sunshine was always bright. “But what brought on this sudden talk of marriage, Jinwoo? Was it Donghee? Did he plant the idea into your head?”

Jinwoo closed his eyes and leaned into Myungjun. Myungjun continued to kiss him as Jinwoo talked. “It was you. It was when I first saw you. I told you, I made the decision to marry you right then and there, and I want to do it. I want to marry you.”

“You have to propose.”

“I did.”

Myungjun huffed and drew his lips back from Jinwoo’s skin. “A  _ real _ proposal, Jinnie! With a ring and...and you have to go down on one knee and ask me all romantically.” 

They were alone on the sidewalk, and so Jinwoo decided now would be as good of a time as ever. He pulled back from Myungjun and got down to one knee.

Or, he  _ thought _ he got down to one knee. Instead, he fell over onto his side, and with a groan, asked, “Myungjun, will you marry me?”

Myungjun laughed loudly at him. “Where’s my ring?” he demanded.

Jinwoo waved a hand in the air, showcasing an imaginary ring. When Myungjun helped him back to his knees, Jinwoo mimed slipping it onto Myungjun’s finger. He cooed and said, “It looks beautiful, Jun. Very elegant.”

“You’re super drunk.”

“Yes, but not wasted.”

“Get up,” Myungjun giggled, lugging Jinwoo back to his feet. “Let’s get you home, babe, and then maybe I’ll accept your marriage proposal.”

Jinwoo swayed where he stood, but managed to blurt out, “Too late! You already said you would!”

Myungjun furrowed his eyebrows in thought before recognizing what he had done. He sighed and nodded his head. “I did. I did. Well, then…” He held out his hand, displaying the imaginary ring, and whispered, “It’s beautiful, Jinnie, thank you.”

“Not as beautiful as you,” Jinwoo replied.

Not as beautiful as his sunshine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can catch yo with ya girl seal on her twitter [@thevonseal](https://www.twitter.com/thevonseal). there is where i shall post spoilers, schedules, and general nonsense.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so it finally ends.

“It’s finally happening,” Myungjun whispered, looking at his signature on the form before him. He admired it for a few extra seconds, almost too emotional to speak, before passing the papers over to Jinwoo. “We’re finally doing it.”

Jinwoo smiled fondly at Myungjun before adding his own name to the form. “Anything else needed?” he asked.

Myungjun snatched the forms away from Jinwoo, as if hardly daring to believe that they were finally compiling adoption papers. He sighed dreamily and shook his head. “This is it. This is all we need. All that’s left is to turn these in.” As he diligently folded the papers, excitement overtook him. “Do you think she’ll like our home? Do you think she’ll like  _ me? _ What if she’s scared? What if it’s hard to calm her down? Oh, god, I bet she’ll be rowdy and fun. Will she listen to me? Should I be the strict dad or the fun dad?”

“I think we can both be the fun dad,” Jinwoo said, readying the envelope. “Here, let me see the forms.”

Myungjun hesitated briefly before kissing the papers. In response to Jinwoo’s confusion, he murmured, “For good luck.”

Jinwoo nodded as if he understood. “Ah. Well, I think we have just about as much luck as anyone else does. Besides,” he added, sealing the envelope and placing a stamp on it, “the lady at the pound already told us we basically had her. We just have to do this for the formalities of it all.”

“I know,” Myungjun responded, clearly still a bit overwhelmed. “I can’t wait until she comes! She’s beautiful!”

They had gone to the pound earlier in the week, still a bit high over Jinwoo’s  _ actual _ engagement (which had been very cliched and he was embarrassed of himself the moment he said such cheesy lines like  _ you are my sunshine _ and which Myungjun had greatly enjoyed, but asked afterward, “Didn’t you already propose?” which rendered the entire night pointless) and Jinwoo had spotted the cutest dog he had ever seen. It was a Yorkshire Terrier, the lady at the pound informed Jinwoo, and she had been abused and neglected for most of her life. Now, at six years old, she had only one eye remaining and a heavy underbite from years of untreated dental problems.

Jinwoo had cried, and Myungjun had instantly proclaimed, “We’re getting her.”

The dog was named Supernova, a fact that didn’t fail to escape Jinwoo’s watchful eyes. It was destiny, he told Myungjun, trying to wipe the tears from his face. It was destiny that a dog with a space-sounding name had landed right in their arms, right when they needed something in their lives to take care of.

They couldn’t adopt children, after all. The laws in Korea were too strict for two men to ever adopt a child. Myungjun said he didn’t mind so much. He knew what he was getting into when he decided to engage in a relationship with another man. 

Jinwoo  _ thought _ he hid his devastation well enough, but clearly not too well, for Myungjun was quick to drag him to the pound for  _ companionship _ . A dog wasn’t the same as a child, but it did heal the wound that had begun to spread from the bitter rejection of the South Korean government. 

Now, sitting there with the letter in his hands, he wondered if the world would ever change. Already Korea was becoming a bit more accepting, and Jinwoo thought that maybe one day they could add a child to the family.

“It would be perfect,” he muttered to Myungjun, “if we could have a child  _ and _ a dog.”

“My sister is pregnant again,” Myungjun responded. “Maybe we can steal the next baby.”

“I doubt that.”

Myungjun laughed and leaned over to kiss Jinwoo’s nose. “You never know. She’s tired of kids. Three kids already and a fourth one on the way! I bet she’ll use protection after this, or at least forbid her husband from jumping back into her bed.” 

“Well,” Jinwoo continued, staring at his letter, “at the very least, we could take some of the kids off her hands every so often, right? I mean, you like being an uncle, and I’d love to be an uncle, so we could just be the cool, fun uncles of the family.”

With a smile, Myungjun replied, “Sure. I’ll see if she wants a break anytime soon. Trust me, though, after a couple days of the kids, you’ll probably get sick of them. They’re a rowdy bunch. When she got pregnant for a second time, I was over often to help her out and I never got any sleep. If the newborn wasn’t screaming, then her first child was, and between the two of them, I don’t think I remembered  _ how _ to sleep.”

Jinwoo laughed at Myungjun’s recollections, though he couldn’t help but think that  _ his _ child would be perfect, if he were able to have a child. He would have the most perfect child ever. It would carry Myungjun’s genes — he had decided early on that he didn’t think anyone would benefit from a dosage of his DNA. Instead, the kid would have the genes of the most kind, caring, thoughtful person on the entire planet.

“If we could have a kid, what do—”

“Let’s not play the hypothetical game,” Myungjun said, brushing off his question.

“Fine.  _ When _ we have our own kid, do you want a boy or a girl?”

Myungjun raised his eyebrows at Jinwoo’s proposed question. Then, he asked, “Do you think the policies will change soon enough for us to have kids?”

“We’re still young,” Jinwoo pointed out, “and societies always change. I think before we turn forty, it will change, and then we can adopt a kid. And, hell, even after we’re forty, I’m still willing to be a parent if you are.”

Myungjun nodded his head frantically, betraying his own desires. 

They had both voiced their wish to be a parent and have a child, and if a dog was all they could do at the moment, then Jinwoo would be satisfied. He would just have to wait for the future, for the moment they would be accepted as a family with no other issues to stop them.

“Both,” Myungjun blurted out. “I want both.”

“Both?”

“Boy and girl. Both. Either, though, I don’t care. As long as we have a child, I don’t care. I’d be happy regardless.”

And so, as they took the letter down Myungjun’s apartment to the mail chute, they both discussed what their lives would look like with a child.

Jinwoo decided their lives would be even more perfect.

**☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼**

Supernova licked up the tears falling from Jiwoo’s face as she blabbered on and on about the devastating circumstances that led to the breakup of her first boyfriend, some guy named Sunho who was, as far as Jinwoo could tell, a workaholic who didn’t appreciate Jiwoo’s desire to stick around the noodle shop. 

“He said,” she hiccuped, squeezing onto Supernova. The little dog tried to play with her fingers. “He said that I should—should get a  _ real _ job! Like, does h-he think I have a fake job, then?” She wiped at her face with one hand and continued, “When I told him I like my job, he s-said it’s either him or the job. And I thought he was kidding! So-So I laughed and told him that I wouldn’t quit, and then he—he broke up with me.”

Myungjun was baking her some cookies, which were apparently her favorite cheer-up meal. He had hot chocolate on the stove, and he listened to her tale of woe with a frown on his face.

“Jinwoo and I should beat him up.”

“My beating-people-up days are over,” Jinwoo responded, glancing up from where he was deleting all photos off Jiwoo’s phone of her ex-boyfriend. She couldn’t bear to do it herself, so she claimed, and she had readily passed her phone along to Jinwoo.

“Revive those days for one beating,” Myungjun suggested. “Make this one exception for Sunho, that dumbass.”

Jinwoo, though, was steadfast, and he shook his head before asking Jiwoo, “Were you going to keep the one he sent you with his shirt off?”

“No,” Jiwoo replied. She took another tissue out of the box Myungjun had offered her and blew her nose. 

“There’s a lot of him here with his shirt off,” Jinwoo commented. “How many of these was he taking daily?”

Myungjun, obviously quite disappointed in Sunho’s personality, shook his head. “He’s narcissistic. He thinks he’s so great just because he has an office job. He doesn’t even earn as much as Jiwoo does!”

Myungjun  _ did _ pay his employee a substantial amount of money compared to other businesses, but that could be because his restaurant was doing quite well. He made a large profit and managed to score discounts with all of his suppliers — the fishermen at the docks adored Myungjun, and his relationship with Jinwoo did much to help his costs stay low.

He also was, apparently, concerned about his employee on a more personal level. Rather than deal with her breakup the way most employers would (a quick pat on the shoulder and a whisper of, “More work will help the heartbreak go away.”), Myungjun took a personal investment in Jiwoo’s life and did his best to make her feel better, even if it meant shutting his shop down for the day to pamper Jiwoo with cookies and ideas on how to make Sunho suffer for his crimes.

Once finished with his deletion project, Jinwoo slid the phone back over to Jiwoo, who began to examine her photo gallery as if to make sure Jinwoo did his job properly. She seemed satisfied enough and then slumped over in her chair, letting Supernova drop to the floor. The little dog scurried over to Myungjun, who gave her a gentle pat on the head, a reward for her good behavior and infinite patience. 

When the cookies and hot chocolate were done, Myungjun made Jiwoo’s plate first. He brought it over to her, balancing the cookies on his arm and clenching to the mug of cocoa with his only hand. “Here,” he said with all the kindness any sort of big-brother figure ought to have. “Eat slowly, alright? Don’t gorge yourself. And the mug is hot, so be careful.”

Jiwoo took heed of Myungjun’s words, and she nibbled at her cookie as she scrolled through her photos, now empty of all reminders of the boyfriend she lost.

When Myungjun finally took a seat next to Jinwoo, he smiled fondly at the boyfriend he would never lose again.

**☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼**

The tide rushed out across Jinwoo’s toes. He only wiggled them slightly, burying them in the sand for a brief moment, before the water rushed away again, returning back to the sea where it truly belonged. Moonlight shone across the water, illuminating Jinwoo’s world a bit more than usual; coupled with the lights from the apartment buildings behind him, and Jinwoo was certain that he had more than enough light to properly see all that he needed to.

A crab scurried nearby. Jinwoo watched it kick up sand as it went, but when he stretched a hand out to reach it, the crab buried itself in the sand. Jinwoo smiled at the small bulge and muttered, “That’s okay. You might learn one day I mean you no harm. You might learn one day that you’re able to indulge in someone else for a bit. I learned that, and I was once a crab like you.” He poked the sand close to the crab. The crab jumped out of its hole and hurried away. Jinwoo laughed and realized that he wasn’t really a crab. No, he was always a daffodil. He was a daffodil stuck in winter time, facing the cold and the frost and the snow with as much resilience as he could. He was a daffodil dying, longing for the sunlight that spring would deliver. He was a daffodil that managed to survive the harsh winter and bloom properly when his Sunshine came.

It took a while. It took far longer than he expected it would. But here he was now, right where his heart longed to be.

He fell backwards into the sand and stared up at the night sky, at all the little stars twinkling above him. He stretched his arms above him, feeling his tight muscles loosen up a little bit, and then he sighed, content with his quiet evening.

“The tide’s gonna wash you away,” said Myungjun, his voice loud as he called out from a distance.

Jinwoo’s smile grew wider and he hollered back, “Welcome home, Sunshine!”

He heard Myungjun trudge forward, shuffling through the sand, but he had yet to look over.

“What’re you doing out here, anyway?” Myungjun’s voice was closer now, and Jinwoo sighed happily. Being in close proximity with his fiance was perfect, and he was happy they could share such a beautiful, peaceful evening together.

“Relaxing,” Jinwoo responded. He patted the area beside him. “Sit with me.”

“I’ll get sand all over my work clothes.”

“I’ll wash them before we go to bed,” Jinwoo promised.

Myungjun plopped down where Jinwoo had gestured for him to with a soft sigh. He stayed still for a couple of seconds before moving his attention to Jinwoo’s arm. “You have on short sleeves, I see.”

“It’s hot outside. I’ll die if I only wear long sleeves.”

He was still growing used to keeping short-sleeved shirts on hand. He wasn’t used to displaying his tattoos for the world to see and it sometimes made him a bit nervous. However, at Myungjun’s insistence that no one of importance would care, he had taken to wearing short sleeves around the apartment. He had yet to venture out in public without long-sleeved shirts, but he figured this was good enough for the moment.

“I like looking at your arms, anyway,” Myungjun commented, running a hand down Jinwoo’s arm. He traced over a few tattoos, though he did bypass Jinwoo’s old gang tattoo with a practiced ease. “You’re super strong.”

Jinwoo hummed and muttered, “I think I’ve put on some weight.”

“Nonsense. You’re just as toned as you were when we first met years ago.” Myungjun laid down and curled into Jinwoo’s side, resting his head onto Jinwoo’s chest. “And if you have gained any weight, I think I’m to blame. I need to stop feeding you so many noodles.”

“Your noodles are delicious. It’s hard to stop eating them.” Jinwoo kissed the top of Myungjun’s head, the only part of his boyfriend he could reach at the moment. “I cooked some fish tonight. I’ll warm it up when we get back home.”

“Sounds yummy.” Myungjun made no efforts to get up, however. He seemed content enough with where he was, and he wrapped his arms around Jinwoo’s body, as if denying them both the chance to get up anytime soon. “I can’t wait until we get married.”

It would be a week until they could finally call each other  _ husband _ . In one week they would be married, and while it was neither legal nor binding, it would still be an important moment for the two of them. Besides, Jinwoo didn’t need a piece of paper or a governmental stamp of approval to tell him that he was Myungjun’s significant other forever. All he needed was a simple ceremony with their closest friends and family. All he needed were the rings and the suits and the honeymoon that would come right after. All he needed was  _ Myungjun _ .

“One week,” Jinwoo reminded him, and Myungjun squealed with excitement. 

“Sanha and Minhyuk bought a dress for Supernova. Minhyuk promised that Supernova can sit on his lap during the ceremony.”

“I hope she likes boats,” Jinwoo mused. “Maybe we should take her out on a boat one day, just so she can get used to it.”

“Yeah.” Myungjun looked up at Jinwoo and kissed his chin. “Maybe this weekend. You think you can borrow one? Just until we get our boat in.”

_ Their _ boat, fondly named  _ Sunshine _ , wasn’t set to be in until a day before the wedding. Jinwoo was excited to finally have a boat of their own; Myungjun was excited to break it in.

Jinwoo nodded his head, trying his best to hide his grin. “I’ll borrow one. We’ll go fishing again and see how well she does. I bet she’ll be fine; Supernova is brave.”

“She is. We have an amazing little girl.” Myungjun giggled, as he always did whenever they referred to Supernova as their daughter. “Bin’s excited to watch her for the week we’ll be gone. He said he and Dongmin are going to make good use of our apartment.” 

Jinwoo grimaced. “I hope that doesn’t mean what I think it means.”

“Oh, you know Bin. He likes to rile people up. I doubt he’ll do anything  _ too _ disgusting.” Myungjun sat up and gave Jinwoo’s stomach a small pat. “Come on. Time for bed. You have to be at work early tomorrow morning.”

With a small groan, Jinwoo also sat up. Myungjun took his time brushing sand out of Jinwoo’s hair, and he asked, “Will you ever bleach your hair again? You looked hot with red hair. And brown hair. And even the green hair was oddly attractive.”

“The green hair was  _ not _ attractive.”

“It was, in an odd, sexy, seaweed-y sort of way.” Myungjun, once he deemed Jinwoo’s hair clean, kissed Jinwoo’s cheek. “We should dye my hair some crazy color before the wedding. Red? Blue? Pink?” 

“You look perfect the way you are, though,” Jinwoo countered. He stood, pulling Myungjun up with him, and they instantly wrapped their arms around each other as they began to walk along the beach. “You look like sunshine.”

“That’s because I  _ am _ Sunshine,” Myungjun teased.

Myungjun  _ was _ his sunshine. Myungjun was the reason Jinwoo had been pulled from the depths of such a horrible life. Myungjun was the reason Jinwoo had made something worthwhile of himself. Myungjun was the reason Jinwoo could now smile.

Myungjun was the sunshine who blossomed such a damage, winter-ravaged daffodil back to life. 

“You’re  _ my _ Sunshine,” Jinwoo whispered, and he kissed Myungjun softly on the lips. Myungjun smiled at him and they intertwined their fingers together, matching engagement rings catching the moonlight within them. Jinwoo gazed upon their jewelery, their promise to marry, and he grinned widely. 

“ _ You’re _ sunshine,” Myungjun replied suddenly. Before Jinwoo had the chance to reject the nickname, Myungjun laughed and tugged him along the beach, yelling, “Jinwoo’s my only sunshine!”

Jinwoo decided he would let it go, just this once. 

Besides, he wanted to be Sunshine, too. He wanted to be Myungjun’s only Sunshine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bittersweet moment here! i've finally ended the sunshine series!!! fear not, tho, for i have one more piece i might post one day with myungjun's POV. we shall see if i ever work on it again though!
> 
> you can catch yo with ya girl seal on her twitter [@thevonseal](https://www.twitter.com/thevonseal). there is where i shall post spoilers, schedules, and general nonsense.


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